Mass Effect: Judgement
by Coma Kill
Summary: Opening in an original Universe, and taking place in the Mass Effect universe, this story follows the endless life of Jack Carmine, a psychotic immortal anti-hero dedicated to the preservation of life, of law, and the administration of righteous justice by any means necessary. Mostly Murder. For Mature readers only.
1. Chapter 1: Prometheus

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUDGEMENT**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

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**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

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**STORY SYNOPSIS: **This story opens in an original Universe, and tale takes place in the Mass Effect universe. This story follows that life of Jack Carmine, a psychotic empathetic anti-hero dedicated to the preservation of life, of law, and the administration of righteous justice by any means necessary.

**Mostly murder.**

**CHAPTER 1**

**PROMETHEUS**

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**It's well past midnight, far enough North of Orlando that the buildings have disappeared and are replaced by thick irradiated growth. The humidity of the June weather is nearly unbearable. It's 2231. As if that mattered at all.**

Justice.

Righteous, glamorous, proper Justice.

Is it about Vengeance? Righteous vengeance?

Is about just… righting the wrongs?

Who's to say?

Who's to say that this man deserves to live more than the raider just down the road? He's next, oh trust me, he's definitely next. But this man first.

I've hunted him. Day and night for about three weeks now. If I'm right, they'll be here to stop me soon, it's happened before but I think I've got just enough headway to avoid them.

In this world of chaos, maybe I can create a small circle of peace, if only for a moment.

I approach the home. It's a modest place, built up from some cleared out ruins of, what I believe used to be a rest stop, maybe. It's remote enough for me to assume that at least. He's used car wreckage and the remains left of the Great War to fill in the holes.

Windows: boarded over with gun slots in case of raider attacks. The door is properly solid: tempered steel, makeshift but sturdy, with a slot to look through. A guard platform up high, with a guard posted as I stand here, in plain sight, if not for the darkness of the night shrouding me.

I shrug off my modest pack, lowing it to the ground. I've always believed in travelling lightly. I open it and retrieve what tools I will need that I don't already have on my person.

First, about 330 feet of coiled synthetic rope. I don't like the natural line. It rots over time and doesn't feel as nice on the wrists and ankles. I want their pain to be focused. I don't want them to think about the gnawing burning pain in their wrists and their ankles.

I put my arm and head through the coils and wear the rope across my body so that it doesn't get in the way. I take the small blowtorch out and give it a little shake, listening. It's almost empty. Shame.

I take the hammer and four of my six inch titanium nails out as well. I place the hammer in my belt and stab the nails through the rope. Finally I dig around my pack to find my hypodermic needles, taking three. I fill one with painkillers, and the other two with a nasty narcotic concoction. I cap the needles and place them gingerly in a pouch on my belt.

Some of the things I need, I carry on my person. My gun: A .45 caliber pre-war handgun, about 50% original parts, model 1911, Springfield. Heavily modified, with detachable silencer stowed in a pouch along the holster that I keep at crossdraw on my tactical vest. Lucky find, the vest. Year 2213, police station in the supply cage, near Vancouver. Kept it in good shape these past years. It's needed more than a little patch work but it's still holding together. Back to my weapon: I've had her since… well… since this started. Heavily modified and I keep extended magazines out of preference, each carrying 14 rounds. Her name is Catherine. She is my weapon, even if I don't use her every time.

I also have with me my knife. An eight inch blade, four inch grip combat knife, wicked edge for such a large heavy thing. It's singled edged but the back of the blade is semi serrated. I keep him clean, shining silver steel it almost looks white. His name is the Vagabond. He is my weapon, even if I don't use him on every kill.

And I don't justify every kill.

But most don't. Some just deserve death more than others.

Do I?

I take a breath and continue towards the building. I reach the wall, about two floors below the guard platform which occupies most of the ruined third floor. I look around, my eyes long accustomed to the darkness.

Ah, a way up. I approach a dumpster. This is going to be quite a jump. I sprint at the dumpster, leaping onto it, planting one leg onto it firmly but quietly. I push with all my might and jump for the window on the second floor, catching onto the window sill with ease. I pull myself up, placing my feet on it, posed like a pre-war cat in the moonlight. I ease myself up and reach to the edge of the guard platform, the rusted sheet metal used as the floor cutting into my palms slightly. I ignore this and pull myself up to the railing, pulling up again and over it, onto the guard platform.

I approach the guard who lazily watches the landscape, though he isn't doing a great job seeing as how I just walked right up to the building.

Does this man deserve death?

I don't know this. But I don't have to kill him, so I won't.

I reach under his gun arm, wrapping my arm up and placing my hand behind his neck to immobilize that arm, which holds the .308 caliber rifle. I simultaneously wrap my other arm around his neck putting him into a chokehold.

I backpedal a few steps and drop to a knee, applying pressure and flexing my arm. I hear him make a small noise, a whimper and then exhale slowly, his thrashing legs ceasing their struggle. A quick thinking man would've fired off a shot, potentially warning the inhabitants of the building. He is not a quick thinking man.

Rest, slow brained man. Do not give me a reason to hunt you like I have your employer.

I take his rifle, unload it and drop it to the ground off the edge of the building, dropping the magazine and the formally chambered round to the ground near the guard's feet. I open the door to the rest of the home. The first floor is what they use as the shop. Definitely locked beyond all measure. What I want is the second floor. No need to clear the first floor, it won't have anybody in it.

I head down the stairs into the second floor of the home/shop. This is the living quarters. There must be another guard who lives here if they can have a night guard, they need a day guard. I will find him or her first and keep them from interrupting me.

Death if need be.

I'm in a hallway. Two doors on either side of me, stairs at the end. I open the first door on my left slowly and carefully. It creaks slightly, but that's okay. The child's room. I'll return momentarily.

I open the door to my right. Latrine. I move to the next door on my left. The guard's room. Two beds and two chests of drawers and cabinets. One current occupant. Sound asleep. I enter the room quietly and shut the door behind me. I approach the bed, slowly being as silent as I can. Every step creaks the floor however. I see the guard stir and I move fast, throwing myself under their bed, not hitting anything and sliding absolutely silently into darkness. I see their feet swing over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. I hear the guard yawn and stand. He exits the room.

I wait. And wait.

He comes back a few minutes later, the telltale sounds of a toilet flushing announcing his return. He shuts the door behind him and lays back in his bed.

I wait for just a few moments before shifting myself out from under his bed. I use my shoulders to walk myself out and I stand slowly. I stand at the edge of his bed and stare down at him, my eyes bleak. He's sleeping open mouthed, facing the ceiling.

Death? Not today for you.

I reach down and grasp his throat with my left hand, my forefinger pinching down on his carotid and my thumb on his jugular. He instantly thrashes, trying to bring his chin to his chest and makes a groaning noise, grabbing my arm with both his hands. I squeeze, hard, and he exhales, his breath rattling, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

I release his neck and slowly massage the points of pressure I applied with my fingers, to assist in blood flow. I do this for only a few seconds before leaving his room and going back to the child's room. It's the smallest room, but more spacious than the guard's due to only one occupant. I look down at the slumbering child. Ten, maybe twelve years old. Innocent, as innocent can be. He'll become damned, turn to evil and seek my wrath if I do what I'm considering doing. He'll live a damned life if I force him to watch. Join the hunters even. Best leave you to your sleep, young one.

I exit the child's room and shut it behind me. I uncoil a length of rope and cut it off with Vagabond. I tie the rope to the doorknobs of the bathroom and the child's room together, ensuring that they're taught. He won't be able to leave until somebody unties the doors.

I enter the last room, the one I've yet to enter. I walk in, man and woman asleep on a large king sized bed. Dirty mattress but they sleep soundly all the same. The man is the one I want. I walk over and sit in an arm chair, removing my tools from my person: my hammer, my rope with the nails, my blow torch and my knife. I draw my pistol and hold it lazily in my hand, staring at it. I place it on the ground in front of me and remove the needles from my pouch. I walk over to the woman's side first and inject her with one of the ones filled with the narcotics cocktail. She won't wake anytime soon. I pick her up gingerly and walk her into the guard's room and lay her on the vacant bed. I return to the Master bedroom.

I shut the door and lock it.

Just you and me. Judge and perpetrator.

I retrieve my knife and my pistol and walk over to his side. I gently shake his arm and I level the pistol to his forehead, between his eyes.

His eyes open and they widen.

I cock the gun for good measure and take a step away, keeping the gun pointed at him.

"Up." I say.

He rises from his bed and stands there next to it, facing me. He doesn't raises his hands in the air.

Different.

"Take your mattress off of your bed. Put it by the door."

The man does as I instruct him with some effort. He turns back to me, sweating profusely.

"Lift the bedframe and arrange it vertically, the foot of the bed on the ground, and move it against the wall." I say, moving to the arm chair and sitting. I turn on a light.

He looks around the room, not doing as I tell him immediately.

Typical.

"Where's my wife?" He asks.

"In the other room. Asleep. She won't wake up soon, but she's not harmed." I say. "Your child: the same. Your guards: Unconscious. Do as I told you."

He swallows, a reflex. The human body excretes an excess of fluids when their adrenaline is activating. Sweat, saliva, urine, semen, tears. Everything. It's a natural response. It doesn't necessarily mean that he's nervous or frightened, just that his blood is pumping. He moves to the edge of the bed and stands it upright with some difficulty. He scoots it against the wall and turns to look at me.

"Back up, against the bed frame." I say, standing from the chair.

He does so. I take a few steps towards him and place the narcotic needle on the ground before returning to the chair.

"Pick up the needle. Uncap it. Inject yourself. I know you know how." I say. I wait patiently.

He picks up the needle and uncaps it. "What's in it?"

I do not respond. I just gesture with my knife in my left hand.

He swallows a few times and injects himself. He drops the needle and looks up at me.

"Back against the frame." I say. He does so.

His heart is beginning to palpitate, his sweat glands going into overdrive, his eyes dilate and his limbs are becoming shaky. I holster my gun and pick up the rope. My narcotic concoction will keep him in a semi-lethargic state for about five minutes before his world becomes strange and overly intense. Every sensation will send shockwaves of information to his brain. This will be an eye opening experience for him.

I tie him to the bedframe, taking my time to make sure his bindings are tight and secure. His legs are wide and his arms stretched to the corners of the bedframe. In addition, his right arm is secured at the shoulder to the bedframe in addition to his wrist. It will be difficult for him to move.

I return to my chair and sit to wait out the remainder of the five minutes. While I wait, I consider his crimes. Four counts of homicide. Theft. Arson. Rape. He is in for a particularly painful punishment.

But justice must be done.

I approach him as his head stops lolling about and he begins to look around.

"Who… What's going on? Why are you doing this?" He asks, his speech slurred terribly.

"My name has changed many, many times. But people have taken to calling me Prometheus, Justice, Vengeance, Death, The Executioner, The Judge, Peacekeeper, The Vigilante, Reaper and the Devil. I'm taken with the first one out of those to be honest. Those are but a few of many. Those are just more common. You have committed atrocities that have impacted many people, and caused many deaths both directly and indirectly. I am doing this because justice demands it." I retrieve my blow torch, my nails and my hammer. "This is going to hurt. A lot. Your first crime that we will punish you for is rape."

"Please!" He cries, tears rolling down his face. "I didn't mean to hurt her! I didn't know!"

"Didn't you?!" I shout at him, slamming my fist across his face, blood spraying from his mouth. "Didn't you?! She was impregnated by your filth! Shamed, she left her home and was eaten alive by wild dogs! Is this justified?!"

"That wasn't my fault!" He cries. "Don't…"

"Her death was caused by you. Her brother searched for her. Found her mangled remains. She was only 19, you trash." I hiss at him. "Rape is a crime I have severe consequences for."

I level my pistol with his groin, before he can speak I fire. He howls and his underwear is stained with blood.

"Next!" I shout over his cries. "Theft! You robbed a caravan while you were with your band of raiders. The caravan was razed, no survivors. Can I legitimately without a doubt convict you of those crimes? No I cannot, but I know that that caravan carried food and ammunition for a nearby settlement. I know that they were soon wiped off of the map because of the shortages. The elderly, men, women, children all dead or gone because of your actions. There were 30 people in that settlement. I could charge you for the deaths of every one of them but I'm being merciful."

"I have a kid…" He whimpers. "A wife. I'm a good man."

"No, you're not." I hiss back. I holster my gun and draw my knife. "For theft, I'm taking your right arm."

"STOP!" He cries as I stab my knife into his armpit, making him cry out, severing his tendon with a twist of my knife. I work the blade into the socket of his shoulder and wrench his arm out of it. I hack with my knife three times, removing his arm from the rest of him. He was screaming the whole time. He's sweating profusely and it looks like he's going to faint. Can't have that.

I light my torch and cauterize his arm so that he doesn't bleed out. "Come on. Stay awake, we aren't nearly done yet."

He shakes his head. "Just kill me dammit."

"We're getting to that." I respond, shutting off the torch. "I'm feeling merciful today. I'll count that cauterization as your arson punishment, though you deserve more severe."

I find my nails and feel my way down his ribcage, I find his fourth rib and place a nail just above it and tap it into his chest cavity about halfway. He shrieks. I repeat that four times, each nail about a quarter inch from the other. Those wounds will be quite painful. His lungs and heart aren't punctured, in fact he won't even bleed much from the nails and it doesn't hurt much more than your typical stab wound. But as he takes in these ragged breaths, the holes in his chest cavity will take in air as his lungs expand said chest cavity. The nails will prevent air from leaving as easily. It will feel like somebody is turning your chest into a balloon. His breathing will quite ironically suffocate him as pressure outside his lungs compresses them, reducing their volume with every breath. A sinister way to die. A slow way to die. Murder begets death.

"That's one for each direct murder. Death is the punishment for murder, just for your information, but hell, I'm going to be honest; I've killed for less." I draw my knife across his stomach, disemboweling him. The smell that follows is sickening, watching his entrails dangle out of him like rope from a ship's sails, his legs shaking violently, no longer holding his weight, and blood pooling at his feet. I set about on his face now, slicing away at his lips and part of his cheeks, exposing his teeth, giving him a perverse, macabre grin.

"Liars lose their lips, bare their words for all to see." I say. "Finally, before you die. I'll open your eyes, show you that justice is blind, that she never sleeps."

I make a small cut on his lower eyelid and insert my knife just a tad. I pop that eye out, letting it drop to the ground and I do the other one. I drag my knife down both of his eyes, leaving cuts over them, perpendicular to his eyesfrom about an inch above each brow to about an inch below each eye. I take a step back.

"See?" I say, taking a shirt from a drawer and wiping off my hands, face and knife with it. "Quick. Now you get to die."

He's quivering like a mad man. "Hhhuck you…. Hhhuck you… Do… It."

"One last thing." I say, taking the painkillers out of my pouch. "Are you truly repentant? Did you learn from your punishment? If so, I will give you these painkillers. Your pain will disappear in seconds, your heart will stop and I won't leave you here to die of your injuries. Just say, I'm sorry and I'll make it go away."

He looks up at me, or he would if his eyes weren't gone. "Go… hhuck… yoursel…"

I place the painkillers back in my pouch and collect my affects. "May God have mercy on your soul."

"See… you… in hell…" He mumbles, his breath rattling away as he passes out, slowly dying.

Just then the door bursts open and a round rips through my throat before I can react quickly enough. They've gotten better. How about that?

"Oh, hell…" Hunter mumbles, sounding distraught. "I'm too late. You mother fucker… You fucking mother fucker…"

He begins to drag me outside, down stairs and out the door. I can't feel anything below my neck but at the rate I'm bleeding it won't matter in a moment or two.

"You fucking mother fucker. God dammit. God fucking dammit." Hunter says as he drags me. He stops dragging me, dropping my legs and kneeling next to my head. "You're a monster, Jack. A monster. I'd burn you if I could, give you as painful a death as possible but I can't right now so I'm leaving you here for the crows and the beasts. I hear a pack of dogs nearby. Enjoy your death while they eat you alive, Prometheus. I hope it was worth it this time. My duty is done. Rest in peace, for whatever good it'll do."

I grin and choke on my blood. "Pointless… Paralyzed… Fucking idiot…"

I start to laugh through my blood as he curses and starts kicking me in the head. I die a moment or so later as my blood stops flowing.

Dying is really hot. That's all I have to say about it really. It's hot, it hurts and it takes a long time. What do I see when I'm on the other side? Nothing really. Mostly just blackness. It's kind of like my eyes are closed, I feel the world and my body but I'm not there.

I can't in all honesty call it dying. I never really die. I always get really close but never quite there. It's like I jumped out of a plane at 10,000 feet and fell 9,999 feet before a bungee cord pulls me back.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes. It's morning now. I sit up and clear my throat which feels quite hoarse this time. Definitely because of the bullet through the neck. I take a look at myself real quick, looks like some dogs were munching at my arms but they ran off and it healed up. Other than that I'm no worse for wear. I get up and dust myself off, retrieving my things.

Alright Hunter, you did it this time. See you next year.

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**Under the Ruins of San Diego, California, half a century later, I have found my answer.**

People always are surprised when I tell them my age. They always say the same thing too. 'You don't look a day over 20!'

I laugh. Not a day over 20 eh? Well actually, 23. Yeah that's about right, I think. It's been so long, I hardly remember.

My name is Jack Carmine. That was the name my parents gave me as they birthed me. I was born in the aftermath of the Great War of 2017, in the year 2044. The year now is 2283… making me… a measure more than 200 years old. 239, if I got my math right. To any untrained eye, I'm a human man, looking, like I said, no older than 23.

When I was 23 years old, in 2067, I died. I fell down a hill side, breaking my arm and both my legs as well as several ribs, cracked my skull open too. I survived the fall itself, barely, but happened to roll into a river at the end. I drowned because I couldn't swim. At the time, I didn't actually know how to either, so even if I had come out of the fall unscathed, I still would have drowned.

I woke up, eight hours later, wounds healed with no scars on the shore of the lake, a few dozen miles downriver of my home.

Don't ask me how, but for some reason, I cannot die.

Well… I _do _die. Sort of. I just come back to life exactly eight hours after the moment of my death. But that's just half of it.

And I'm also a little more resilient than most people. My skin, my bones, and my muscle are far denser than a normal human beings'. Somebody my height and build shouldn't weigh more than 210 pounds, maybe at the most, but I weigh 415. As a result of my density, I'm far _less _buoyant than normal people, and swimming is a horrible and terrifying struggle. But I still can swim, just not very well. On the bright side, I am to some extent death resistant. Blunt objects at worst will rupture organs, never really break bones unless applied with incredible force. Very sharp blades can break the skin and muscle, but need some considerable force to do so. Finally I'm bullet _resistant_. Small arms don't do much. They break the skin and pierce somewhat deep but stop short of the vital stuff. Larger caliber firearms like powerful rifles will do it though. Or if you eviscerate me with a lot of rounds that'd do it too. I'm just as susceptible to flamesas any other person. In fact it takes longer for me to burn because of how dense my body is. So it's more painful, on some level, hence that being the Hunters' favorite disposal method of me.

Also, on top of my resiliency, I have a terribly accelerated healing factor. My body heals almost as quickly as it is harmed. Chop off an arm, my body will grow it back in less than a minute. Pump me full of bullets, they'll pop right back out within seconds. My body can't expel foreign objects larger than bullets and shrapnel on its own though. Not while I'm alive at least. Knives, blades, rebar, any sort of objects impaling me, those will stay until I remove them. But yes, I heal, very, very quickly. If I'm dead I heal even better. I'll look like corpse, wounds from my death and everything for about eight hours before my body goes into healing overdrive and kick starts me back to life, no matter what killed me. If something's stuck in me and I died from it or something else, my body will spit that thing out. Only if I'm dead though. Once I got a piece of shrapnel stuck in my spine, paralyzed me. It hurt for weeks so I slit my throat and wouldn't you know it, the shrapnel came right out.

Because of my healing, I have a few benefits that most people don't have. My muscles recuperate from exercise almost immediately, meaning that my body can grow muscle much easier than other people. As a result of my power, and my age, I am in peak human physical condition, my strength and physical form bordering on superhuman. I also have supreme hearing, sight and smell. But not touch. That actually seems dulled due to my thick skin. On the flipside of my power, I cannot get intoxicated and for whatever reason, my metabolism runs at a million miles an hour so I'm nearly always hungry and it's very easy for me to starve to death. This has proven drastically inconvenient especially in our current apocalyptic wasteland state. And that is by far my most hated method of death. Because I'll come back to life only to starve to death again within the hour. Once I spent three days lost in a constant cycle of dying of hunger and reincarnating just as hungry, if not hungrier.

There is just _one _thing that for whatever reason negates my healing ability and my resiliency. Platinum. Platinum anything. Platinum knives, platinum bullets, platinum spoons. Anything. If it's platinum and you're deadly enough with it, you can kill me with it like I was just any normal human being. I don't know why. Like always though, I come back to life, no problem.

And thus, due to my healing, I also have longevity.

But, if you're curious, I do age. And it's something I don't entirely understand. When things first started, after a few decades of reincarnation on a nearly daily basis, I got sick of my lifestyle; back in the day, when I first learned of my talents I was an adventurer of sorts, doing jobs for people and what not. So I settled down, married and had some kids. I actually managed to die of old age, some 50 years later. But guess what happened? According to an eyewitness my age reversed while I lay in my grave and eight hours later, I came back to life. Of course, this sort of put people off and I had to leave.

That happens more often than not believe me. People get scared, force me to leave. It's been that way for centuries. People want to use me too, use my talent for their gain. I don't like that either.

But I have what you could call a… moral compass. After living so long, I got sick of living. And I realized after multiple suicide attempts that I shouldn't have to be sick of living. Am I right? The reason I got tired of living was because I live in such a god awful world. So I started trying to right some wrongs. Help people, you know? That became a vigilante killing spree in which I tortured viscous criminals to death regardless of how long ago they had committed their crimes. Why? Because justice deserves a place in this world and she never sleeps.

I did that for a long time until I met one criminal, an old, old man who had killed more men than he had years to his name. I had prepared quite a sentence for him but he looked at me, grinned and told me he knew who I was and why I was there.

Perplexed I let him talk. He said to me that he was just a tired old man; that he was so sorry for what he did in the past and regrets it every day. The things he did, he did in the name of survival, he said. He talked about how he killed to feed his family, to pay the bills, that it was all he was good at. He told me that if he could go back in time to shoot himself in the face, stop what he was doing, he would. So all he could do was take a gun put it to his head, apologize for his crimes and punish himself for all his crimes.

I learned of mercy. So I stopped torturing people and put a bullet in every one of their heads for their crimes. Theft I didn't think deserved a bullet unless it was very serious so I usually broke their hands or something.

The years went on, and to this day, I still hunt men and women down for their crimes against humanity.

And if you're out of the loop, maybe, seeing as how history has long since faded into mythology, I'll fill you in.

In the year 2015, a technological boom of sorts began to arise. Science fiction became reality. 3D printing, cybernetic prosthesis, artificial intelligence, magnetic weapon technology, energy weapon technology, but most dooming of all: genetic research.

Researchers managed to map much of the human genome. Not only did they map it but over the next year they perfected a virus of sorts that was injected into fetuses that shaped the way the fetus grew, that tailor made each babe. They isolated the genes that distinguished left handedness from right handedness, height, hair color, eye color. They isolated and eradicated genetic diseases. It was fought at first, but the benefits were too miraculous. It was astounding groundbreaking research.

And then they discovered what they called the God's Gene. It was the gene that held the hidden human potential that we all have. It was the gene that they believed would unlock the human potential and create perfect humans, intelligent, athletic, healthy, prosperous humans. They tested it and a baby that learned to speak and walk within a few weeks was born. They knew they had succeeded. And they created the God's Gene Virus. It was the genetic tailoring virus that all fetuses would receive. To make them perfect.

It wasn't long before they realized that they had made a mistake.

It turns out that the untapped human potential isn't the same, person to person, genome to genome. They unlocked human potential in a large number of infants born in the year 2016 and early 2017, but it wasn't what they believed it to be.

As their mistakes were soon discovered, the world began to fall apart. And the Great War, a great power struggle erupted in 2017. Nuclear war soon followed and the world burned.

All because there were babies born who could influence thought, who could grow scales to avoid vaccinations, who could serve as living batteries and absorb electricity and expel it again, who could create energy discharges from their bodies, who could fly, who could turn invisible, who could create thermal reactions in their skin and create fire or ice, who could teleport… who could never die.

Only a small number of the children were born this way but as the world ended, it seemed the meta-humans were more resilient that the normal ones who outnumbered them, for their newly unlocked genes lived through the apocalypse. 27 years after the Great War, I was born to a human father and a meta-human mother. My mother had limited foresight. She could see, according to her, 14 seconds exactly into the future.

She died of sickness a few years after my birth. It wasn't until I was 23 that I discovered my abilities. I left home the second that I did. I can't remember why.

That is the story so far. I fight for justice now and I've travelled all over the world, searching for a way to right the wrongs the world over, all at once, forever and always. But I've yet to find anything like that…

Maybe until now. I'm standing in a bunker deep beneath the ruins of San Diego, California and I'm looking at one hell of an innovation by a group of meta-humans that formed a group of sorts in the years after the Great War. I don't know what happened to them, but I think that this device may be a time machine. If I can go backwards in time and prevent the researchers from creating the God's Gene Virus, maybe the world will be a better place? Maybe I can cease to exist and really truly die.

If only I knew how the damn thing worked. Lucky for me, years are a fickle thing, and as such I've spent two of my years here in this sanctuary, trying to figure out how to work this damn thing. I think I got it, but there's a problem…

I need more than just me to operate it. Now this is quite a dilemma. I'm going to be honest. I don't know anybody. Well I mean, I do, but they don't like me.

I at this point in time, have one friend in this world that I might be able to call on to help, but I still need at least two more hands. And I think I have an idea on how to make that happen.

See, over my many years in this world, I've righted many wrongs. But to some, this isn't the case. There is a family by the name of Hunter that have followed and well… hunted me with a frightening amount of determination for several generations. By tradition, every son of the Hunter family must dedicate his life from age 20 to age 32 searching for me and killing me. They know I can't die and their motivation alludes me truly, but at this point I think it's more of a family rite of passage than anything. They stalk me nonstop year round and move in for the kill once a year, usually at the most inconvenient of times. They also kill any meta-humans they find. But only in the process of hunting me. They never stray off to hunt them, just me. If they find one along the way they kill it. Shame.

I was a mayor once. They fucked that up for me. I've had multiple families and they've killed all of my family members. I guess they're afraid of me? Maybe.

I'm a dangerous guy, don't get me wrong. In all my time, in all of my travels I've met plenty of meta-humans, with plenty of interesting traits, but nothing similar to mine. You learn a lot of tricks in a lifetime and I've had more lifetimes than a small city.

At any rate, I'm hoping that I can trick them into helping me. You know, tell them I'm trying to send myself to another time or dimension or something; get rid of myself forever. Total bullshit but who gives a damn?

They haven't bothered me in two years, not since I got dragged out of the Colorado River and made my way here. Maybe they lost me? Well, now I _want _them to find me so I'm going to pay an old friend up north a visit. Hopefully, he can help me with this time dilemma.

**##########################################################**

**It takes me several weeks traveling up the coast to reach Oregon, despite the relative 'safety' of the Californian Domain territory. This trip better be worth it.**

I walk over the crest of a hill, finally spotting the place I've been looking for. A small cabin on the beach, fenced in, a radio and water tower within the boundaries of the fences as well as solar panels.

A survivor, like no other.

They call him The Giant. Why? I couldn't tell you. I reach the front gate of the fence and peer through a gap in the steel wall fence. I see a garden, growing fresh fruits and vegetables. The place is eerily quiet. All I can hear is the wind and the ocean.

I find a call box and dial in. "It's Jack Carmine."

The gate buzzes and I walk inside. I approach the cabin and knock on the door. It opens and Lucas Young 'The Giant' answers. I really couldn't tell you why they call him The Giant.

Standing before me is a 5'6" man with lightly tanned skin from time spent fishing, most likely. His eyes are a pale blue, his head is shaved though I remember his hair was a dark brown. He's clearly not of any pure descent, too many strange differentiating features. He's short that's one. But he's built thicker and wirier than an ox and he's likely stronger than one as well. His face has a regal, powerful and triangular bone structure with high cheekbones a low prominent brow, tall forehead, strong masculine jaw, wide nose and pointed chin. His face has creases and lines demonstrating that he frowns and furrows his brow a lot. Sort of like he's doing now. He's still quite young, mid-twenties I believe. He's wearing a pair of light blue denim jeans, fitted well for his build, a pair of black, white and red athletic shoes that are quite stylish, a black t-shirt that's maybe a little too tight that has white lettering reading 'Go Fuck Yourself.' He's also got a wrist mounted computer, clearly modified to hell. He has a large caliber handgun holstered on his right leg and a machete sheathed on his back.

Lucas is a meta-human, like me. I don't know what his power is. He has never told me. But I do know that supposedly, his parents were both meta-humans and one had the ability to open one way wormholes into the future. Supposedly, they brought him along from some point in the past. I was around when his parents were both killed. I took care of him for about a year. He ran off one day and I let him go. He got a letter to me a few years ago, told me where he ways.

He eyes me up and down, frowning. "Prometheus. You haven't aged a day."

"Very funny. You look different. How have the years treated you?" I ask.

He shrugs. "A lot changes in a decade, Jack."

"You're what now, 26?" I ask.

"23." He corrects.

"Were you really 13, last we saw each other?" I ask baffled.

He nods. "It's been a while, Jack."

"What are you up to now?" I ask.

"Surviving." He replies.

I nod. "So I see. I need to ask you a favor."

"The god asks a favor of the mortal." He continues to frown despite the quip. "How far you have fallen."

I roll my eyes. "I don't have time for your games. I need your help."

"What would that be, Prometheus?" He asks, sounding sarcastic.

"Well… I found a time machine. Well, I think it's a time machine. It opens wormholes through space and time. To me that means time travel." I let him take in that information. "I know you're… not from around here. I need your help to operate it."

He blinks at me. "What's in it for me?"

"I'm sure it could send you to your own time." I shrug. "I'm sure it could."

Lucas looks down and away from me. He turns, heading into his home. I follow him inside and watch as he begins packing his things.

"How far?" He asks, still packing.

"San Diego." I respond examining the space curiously.

He pauses and gives me a look. "Damn far, Jack."

I shrug. "Meh. The roads are safe thanks to the CD."

"Are they?" The Giant asks.

"Safe enough. The odd band of raiders here or there, careful with their targets. Discreet." I think. "It's been a while since I've killed a band of murderous thugs, you know."

The Giant looks up at me still scowling. He's a man who smiles with his eyes. That's enough for me.

**##########################################################**

**This trip was far quicker, 19 days to return to the long abandoned meta-human sanctuary beneath San Diego. Murderers did die along the way. My journey is almost complete.**

I type into the console, showing The Giant the information that he requested. He examines it carefully, studying it. He shakes his head.

"Different?" I ask.

He just nods.

"It was a long shot I suppose." I say with a sigh. "It's true? All of it?"

"Why would I lie about that? Of all things?" The Giant asks.

I shrug. "I've heard strange things."

He shrugs in response and continues his examination of the screen. His frown deepens, if that's even possible.

"We need at least three just to start the thing." He says matteroffactly. "Not including the guy getting sent through time."

I nod. "I know. The other two I need should be here in… well… They'll be here soon. I don't know where they are to be honest."

There is the sounds of a gun cocking behind me.

"Oh, there they are." I say.

"You called us this time." The elder Hunter brother says. "That's new. It's been a long time, old man."

I look at him over my shoulder, he's definitely older. Wiser. They both are. "I'm glad it's still you two. You two have good heads on your shoulders."

"Why call us?" The younger of the Hunter brothers asks, only junior to the other brother by about two years. His weapon, a nice antique lever action shotgun leveled at The Giant's chest but his attention on me. "Missed having your head blown to bits? We haven't seen you in almost three years."

"And why is that?" I ask. There is a delayed response. Before they can I turn to look at them, leaning back against the railing of the catwalk we're standing on. "Hm? Don't ask me what changed. Ask yourselves that? Getting rusty in your old age?"

"I still have half a decade of hunting you. My brother three." The younger hisses.

"We didn't stop looking for you, you know." The elder says, his voice somewhat melancholic. "Nearly three years, two years 8 months to be exact that we've been looking for you… Now here you are. Calling us. Are you trying to mock us?"

"No." I say, almost humorously. "Actually I'm trying to put an end to this. Once and for all."

A blatant lie, but I've become increasingly good at those as the years have gone by. I inwardly laugh at the past. Born practically retarded, didn't learn to walk or talk until I was four, couldn't form a complete sentence until eight, could barely tie my shoes when I was 14 and didn't know my dick from my ass when I died that first time around. Now look at me? Reciting Othello and Howl by memory and composing symphonies in the time it takes for others to think up the words they ought to retort at me with. I'm a late bloomer, I'll admit that, but fortunately for me, I have all the time in the world. Maybe more time than the world.

I'm also just a tad bit over the edge towards insane but at least I've got my foot caught on the fence and I'm willing to admit it.

The brothers have been gawking at me for at least 17 seconds. 17 dreadfully long seconds. If I'm right The Giant is going to kick into survival mode in the next two to three seconds, utilizing their bewilderment of my statement to disarm the junior there. Better prevent that.

I raise my hand casually and push the Giant back just as he flinches to go for the younger's shotgun. He looks at me and I grin at him.

"Not necessary friend." I say to him. "I'm patiently awaiting your responses, gentlemen."

"After all these years…" The elder says understanding the situation and lowing his pistol. "What changed, old man? Tired of dying? Tired of seeing your loved ones killed? Did all those generations of hunting you finally work?"

I sigh, thinking quickly of a reasonable lie. "You know. I'm not sure, old friend. It's been coming on for a long time, I think. And I lost time about two years ago. And when I woke up, I didn't really remember anything. Not the powers, not the 230 years of living, none of it. I think my head got creamed maybe. And when I died of a snakebite later that month, I came back and remembered everything. And it bummed me out. So I'm just going to say that… I'm tired. I'm a tired… old man."

The younger brother lowers his weapon as well. "You need our help to end this?"

I nod. "Yes, you know I've tried practically everything but I'm hoping that this'll do it."

"What is 'this' exactly?" The elder brother asks, holstering his pistol and examining the room.

I turn around. The room we occupy is high ceilinged and fairly open. We're standing on a walkway, barely a dozen feet across with a pair of terminals on it. In the center, leading down is a metal stair well which leads into a large square room with bright shiny metal panels covering the walls, floors and ceiling. In the middle of the room is a cylindrical tube of sorts and above it is a nasty looking spire, sort of looking like some kind of humongous tesla coil with spines jutting out of it and into the ceiling, pointing straight down at the cylinder.

"This gentlemen is what I believe to be a device that manipulates time and space." I say, leaning on the railing. "Now, it's not exactly going to kill me, per se. But I'm finally convinced that I really can't die. So I'm going to need your help to send me into a different time and to a different place so that I can't bother you two ever again."

The brothers look at each other, clearly struggling with this decision. "We kind of need you to die, though."

"Hell, for all you know, I might get split into tiny macro molecules with each one sent into different dimensions, eradicating me entirely forever." I shrug. "I'm not totally disputing that either to be honest."

And I was being honest.

They look at each other again then back at me. The elder boy nods.

"We'll do it." He says.

I grin. "Excellent. Your job, elder is simple. You're just going to activate the machine down there at that console near the machine itself. You, younger lad, you're going to initiate and maintain the power levels: They can't go into the red. Got that? Divert power to different reactors and manifolds when necessary. Trust me it's not hard. It's like a video game, actually. My friend here… Oh how rude of me, Hunters, this is my good friend Lucas Young. Or as he is more fondly known: The Giant. Lucas, these are the Hunter brothers."

"I'm Gambit." The elder hunter, apparently named Gambit says. "And my hot headed younger brother here is Marro."

The Giant just nods. That's why I like him.

"Excellent. I did legitimately forget your names. Sorry, gents. Giant, you're going to be my navigator." I say. "The machine operates by opening a chronological wormhole, quite literally a portal. In addition, there is no chance of you getting pulled through either because I'll be in that containment chamber there. And on top of that, the system has my genome mapped, so unless that chamber gets opened and any of us have any similar genes, we'll be ok. The problem lies in that sometimes the wormhole doesn't follow the efficient path, but the one of least resistance through the 'time-space continuum,' as put by the head researcher at this facility. What I need you to do is maintain this coordinate." I hand him a slip of paper with some numbers and letters on it. "It'll try to scramble bits and pieces as the wormhole hits roadblocks but you need to just change it back to make sure that the wormhole just pushes on through. If you don't, I get blasted into who knows where?"

"Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." The younger brother Marro Hunter says sarcastically walking over to the terminal he is to man.

The Giant meanwhile nods and sets about his work on the navigation terminal. Gambit Hunter and I begin to descend towards the machine.

"It's going to be strange." Gambit says after a second or two of quiet. "Not hunting you anymore. No more family tradition. Do you think that'll end the family bloodline?"

"To be honest, I think it ended a long time ago. I'm sure radiation and incest muddled up your precious pure genetic bloodline." I quip.

"Fuck off." Gambit says laughing. Good to know he has a sense of humor.

Huh.

Never thought I'd joke with the Hunters.

Gambit goes straight to the operations terminal and I step up to the chamber.

"Just pull that lever to open the chamber." I say and he does so. I step inside and he shuts it. An intercom within will allow me to communicate with them.

_"Comfy in there?" _Marro asks from his work station.

I shrug. "It's no harlot's bed but it's fine I suppose. Cozy. Quant. Go ahead and start the reactors, all of them but keep the power isolated for now. I don't want to take any chances."

"_Roger." _Marro responds as I watch him work diligently on his terminal I hear the telltale hum of numerous reactors powering. There were only three in working order when I got here, had to fix the other 17. Did I forget to mention that this takes a lot of power to work?

"_Coordinates are in and ready to go." _The Giant says. _"I'm prepared to unscramble the code when necessary. Standing by."_

I look at Gambit who stares at me through the window in the chamber. I nod at him to start the machine. I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Gambit uncovers the activation button and hits it. Waves of electricity flow into the spines above and the spire begins to glow with a blue light, ion beams shooting through its core, going brighter by the second.

"_Goddamn!" _Marro curses, typing furiously on the console. _"The power draw if fucking astronomical! Rerouting to reactors two and three. One can't take it on its own."_

"Keep the draw isolated dammit!" I shout. "The manifolds aren't equipped to funnel that much damn power!"

"_Wormhole is up!" _The Giant says, frantically. _"Goddamn! It's scrambling the coordinates like crazy!"_

"_Wormhole is at 8% percent density and rising fast as hell!" _Gambit informs me, monitoring the processes from his terminal. _"13%. 20%. 29%." _

Is this it? Will this be over after I change the past?

"_Goddamn these coordinates!" _The Giant shouts.

"_Fuck! One of the manifolds just went dark!" _Marro curses.

"_Wormhole density is stalled!" _Gambit shouts. _"Come on Brother, we need more power!" _

"_There! Reactor 19 and 20 are active, drawing through manifold 10! Diverting reactors 1 to 3 through manifold four!" _Marro announces. _"We good bro?!"_

Gambit gives a thumbs up in response, too focused on the levels. _"Lucas! Even out that pathway!"_

"_I'm working on it!" _The Giant responds. _"It's scrambling slower. I'm caught up! Keeping her steady!"_

When I change the world… Will I cease to exist? My chronological pathway… erased. Is this death? Is it undeath? Is it birth? Rebirth? What is going to happen?

"_Wormhole at 68% density and climbing quick!" _Gambit shouts. _"71%, seventy… Wait… Why were you concerned about the coordinates?"_

Is this justice?

"_Why would it matter if you get sent to any damn time any damn place?! Why do you need to go to this coordinate?" _Gambit shouts at me, staring at me through the glass. I look up at the spire above, its light so bright the blue is turning to white.

Perhaps this is fate?

"_Oh God… You're not sending yourself somewhere to get us out of your hair… you're going into the past aren't you? You're going to change something, aren't you?! What are you doing?! What are you doing?!" _Gambit roars at me. Suddenly he pulls the lever, opening the chamber. "Marro! Shut it down!"

Gambit charges at me. I grab a strong hold of the hand rails inside this small cylindrical chamber.

Or is this destiny? It is everyone's fate to die.

"I can't shut it down!" Marro shouts. "It's too late we can't stop it!"

Gambit grabs me, tries to drag me out of the chamber. "Then stop him from unscrambling the coordinates! We can't let him go to where he's trying to go!"

This must be fate. I knee Gambit in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him. I grab his collar, punch him across the face, hard. I look up and see Marro struggling with Lucas. Lucas is trying to throw Marro off. Marro is fiercely trying to keep Lucas from his terminal. I look at Marro's vacant terminal. The system if unmonitored… it'll diver power to all reactors drawing at once. They'll overload, one by one. But all at once… it'll over charge the system. Maybe this will be it.

There is a dull explosion and the room shakes. The room lights with red emergency lights that flash and alternate with the normal lights. The white blue ion beam and bolts of electricity drown out these lights.

There are loud noises. Gunshots, 9mm. I stumble back as three rounds pierce my abdomen, my back hitting the inside of the chamber. Internal bleeding, punctured stomach, leaking acid into my intestines. I'll die soon. Slowly and painfully. But within the hour as my stomach acids eat away my internal organs and my fetid fecal matter leaks from my melting bowels. Silver bullets. Son of a bitch. I look behind Gambit as he stands, his gun in hand and pointed at me. The fighting pair, Marro and Lucas are rolling down the stairs at us.

Another dull explosion. Overloading reactors, no doubt. The long term effects of such large nuclear reactors overloading and exploding is unimaginable. Nice work, Hunters. Was the cost worth the result? Will the ends justify the means?

Justice. Oh yes. That's what it's all about, isn't it?

"You tricked us." Gambit hisses.

Will the ends, the result, the verdict justify what you did along the way?

"Yes." I say, breathing heavily trying to think past the searing pain spreading very slowly through my gut.

"Why?" He asks.

"I wanted to end it." I say. "End… all of it. All of it."

"What do you mean?" He asks, shaking the gun at me to try and emphasize the point. Pointless waste of calories, that little gesture.

"I was… going to keep the Great War from happening… I was… going to end it… All. No you. No me. No wastelands. No war. No meta-humans. A different… future." I clutch at my stomach, the pain paralyzing me.

Gambit is speechless for a second. "That's wrong. It's playing God. It's not right. You can't change the past."

"Oh? It's… not right? Would God… condemn me to Hell, for preventing the deaths… of 98% of the Earth's population? Preventing the human race's greatest mistake, turning His green… Earth brown and black, glowing with nuclear fire? Preventing horrors like… raiders, tribes of killers, cannibals, rapists, thugs, thieves, and drug abusing psychopaths from ever existing? They cause death, destruction and chaos, no matter what they may try to make you… believe. They kill, they maim, they murder, they rape, they enslave in the name of themselves. And who are you to judge me? Your family has hunted me for generations. You mercilessly kill meta-humans, no matter how innocent, in cold blood. It's wrong. You're nothing but… murderers. And here I was, trying to change it all. Keep meta-humans, me, from ever existing. Do your damn jobs for you! Fools! Is my cause… not righteous? Is this not justice? Is this wrong?" I ask, rhetorically.

He doesn't answer, as he shouldn't. He just looks at me with sad pitiful eyes.

"I would've never existed." I laugh, wheezing and lurching from the literally gut-wrenching agony as my intestines are slowly eaten by my own stomach acids. "I would in a sense… really die. Did I lie to you… Gambit? Hunter? Did I?"

Suddenly the light above us gets really, really bright.

I smile as the light flashes.

**##########################################################**

**The light is blinding and I squeeze my eyes shut. The dusty electrified air of the time chamber is replaced by a cooler, cleaner air that feels stranger to breathe. I smell a cacophony of scents, most notably: Fresh trash. Perhaps my journey has just begun.**

I open my eyes and look at a grey metal dumpster filled with trash, piles of trash bags next to it. I'm sitting in a puddle of rank water that smells like rust and exposure. I hear people, talking, walking and laughing. There must be a lot of them to be making this much noise. A city?

Did it work? I hear faint zipping noises above. My back is to a wall, I'm in the exact same pose as I was in the chamber. Did it work?

I want to look around, examine my surroundings but I can't move. The pain is too severe. What I do know is that Gambit is not here in front of me, with a gun pointed at my head.

I move my hand shakily to the cargo pocket on my right leg of my BDUs. I open it and remove a stiletto. I look down at my stomach and switch open the blade. I make small cuts over the bullet wounds. Hissing and wincing as I dig the blade into my body, popping the silver bullets one by one out of my body. As each mangled piece of metal is ripped out of my body, the holed closes up, leaving a scar. Until I get a new torso as a result of some freak accident, these scars will remain. I examine my stomach, observing the three small bullet wound scars, two near my navel one off of my abdomen, high up, a few inches below my ribcage. This was the painful one.

I sigh. Normally I'd just let myself die and come back in a few hours but I'm in a different place. My corpse would likely have been found and maybe dissected. What would happen then? I wonder? Post mortem mutilation always made me curious. I just heal as fast as a mouse copulates I assume. But I'm dead and I've never had the opportunity to observe it firsthand.

I'm getting off topic here. Ok, let's see where I am.

I get to my feet and look to my left where the majority of the sounds are coming from. Curiouser and curious, sir. This isn't where I expected I would be.

There are people to be sure. It's obvious I'm not in a ruined post nuclear wasteland anymore. I'm in some sort of utopian city that's definitely clear. But there are rather strange creatures here and there comingling with the few humans I see. My, these humans sure are clean, and well groomed.

I should get accustomed to that. But I think I'll try and accustom myself to these creatures. Here is a woman who appears mostly human but has blue skin, no eyebrows strange white tattoos all about her skin and tentacles flopping out from her head rather than hair.

Odd in the slightest.

But there is stranger I see here. There is a rather tall gentleman who looks like he resembles some kind of reptile. He is humanoid in shape with a long lithe body, thin limbs aside from thick forearms and calves which end in what I _think _are hooves. Not sure at the moment. Atop his head are horns bisected by a slit that appears to be a potential vulnerable exploit I can use if I need to kill one of these things. He has huge dark eyes and a thin mouth. He moves quickly. Appearing rushed.

Weirder still is this digitigrade naturally armored avian or maybe raptor-like creature. His jaw's mandibles are separate from his face, he has small beady eyes and a forked upper lip with strange shiny armored plates on his face. He has three fingers and two toes with a large spine coming up out of his calf. His limbs are long and thin, clearly this beast was made to chase down prey. Though his clunky torso suggests maybe otherwise. Perhaps they devolved their wings? At any rate he also has a strange row of blade-like roughly feather shaped spines jutting out across the top of his head.

The other two creatures I see are easier to describe at least. One is what I believe is a jelly fish or maybe a squid or octopus. It has a jelly like body and appears to sport a kind of bioluminescence. His shape is roughly fish like aside from the long tentacles shooting down to the ground to support his or her pink jiggly body.

Finally I see what appears to be in its simplest description a grey hairless gorilla with a pointed brow ridge and… layers of labia (?) instead of a mouth and nose?

Gross. Let's hope that that is in fact their mouth.

And for the record, I'm only assuming the genders of these creatures. For all I know the blue woman could've been just an amorphous homogenous androgynous blob of sentient goo that has psychic or pheromonal capabilities that fooled my brain.

Task at hand: Process new information. Focus, Jack.

I look up at the zipping noises above. Flying cars eh? Was I sent to the future not the past? Maybe I'm actually in the same year in the exact same place just in an alternate timeline where there was no nuclear war…

Just aliens.

Why do you believe them to be aliens, Jack? Why not genespliced atrocities? The civility of these potential aliens/atrocities supports the former hypothesis.

Aliens, eh?

I walk out of the dirty alley I'm standing in. A small creature, a new face bumps into me and waddles on by. In its simplest description, this one was a fat, round shaped armored dwarf with respiratory issues.

"Apologies." I mumble as he waddles away. My words fall on deaf ears as he ignores me. Urban decorum is not something that I have had experience with even with 200 years' worth of living under my belt. I've been in 'cities' sure: Montreal, Las Vegas, New York, Hong Kong, what have you but this… this completely dwarfs everything I've come to understand. Those were all ruins that people pieced roughly back together in some places, leading to something that vaguely resembled former human civilization but this is… it's different. It's foreign. I might go so far as to call it alien.

"Excuse me." I say to a passerby, one of the avian creatures. He continues to walk but looks at me. "Where am I?"

His beady eyes narrow, these two armored plates above his eyes which I assume represent his brown lower and his mandibles things lower and angle outwards, slightly showing sharp teeth. "Fuck off druggy."

"Alright then." I mumble to myself. Well. These aliens speak English at least.

I feel a hand on my shoulder as somebody drags me back into the alley. Multiple hands in fact, throw me backwards, deeper into the alley.

Caught by surprise, all I can do I stumble back and throw my weight forwards after a bit, stopping to kneel and face my attackers.

Three people. One is a human man, the other is one of those avian creatures and the third is a reptilian man, vastly dissimilar from the first reptilian man I saw earlier. This one is more chameleon like as the other was more feeder lizard like and this one appears more human. His eyes are large and mostly black but I can see red rings indicating an iris. His scales are red and there are ridges by his cheeks that show ribbed flesh beneath. He has a spiny ridge on top of his head and his body shape is that of a lithe man. He looks very nervous compared to the other two men.

I think they're men at least.

The human approaches me. He's tall, gruff, angry looking and more like what I'm generally accustomed to in a human being. His head is shaved but his face isn't, covered in several days' worth of stubble growth. He has a long knife in his hand. The avian creature has a length of pipe. The reptilian man doesn't have a weapon visible and he isn't looking at me directly.

He won't be as much of a problem as these other two will be.

I know how to fight people. The avian creature will be a different story. How can I handle this? I have my gun, my Catherine, though I don't know if the wormhole had an effect on its ability to operate. I have my knife, my Vagabond.

"Duke." The avian creature says to the human, his voice carries and sounds as if he has two sets of vocal chords or larynxes. "He's got a gun."

Duke the human scoffs. "Calm the fuck down. That thing is ancient I guarantee it's for show. Listen buddy."

I turn around and bolt in the opposite direction. I hear them shout after me. I'm rapidly approaching a ten foot high fence. There's a dumpster near it. I leap up, planting one leg on the edge of the dumpster and jump again, grabbing the edge of the fence and throwing myself over it. I land and I roll to soften my landing and I continue running. I see a straight away and a left turn. I choose left, trying to mentally picture the layout of these alleyways. And by the way, I'm not running because I'm scared or anything, I'm running so that I can potentially shoot these guys without attracting too much attention.

If it comes to that.

Who am I talking to? Who have I been talking to this entire time? Am I narrating to myself? My inner monologue even has a European accent.

You are insane Jack.

I follow the alleyway as it turns sharply right and then left again about a hundred feet later. A dead end. I look for another method of escape. The windows are too high, the metal walls too sheer and there's nothing to boost myself on. I need to double back.

I turn around to run back. Too late.

The reptilian man finds me first. He slows and stops, staring at me nervously.

He looks over his shoulder. "Hey guys! Here!"

He looks back at me and we stare at each other quietly. I take a few steps forwards. He backs away.

"Stay back guy." He hisses at me, his voice carrying a pleasant baritone vibrato to it.

I stop for about four seconds before stepping forwards again. He backs away but trips over a pile of trash. I'm about to move for him but I see the other two men round the corner. I take a step back.

"Get the fuck up, Uren." Duke hisses at him.

Duke approaches me, knife in hand. The avian creature sways his length of pipe back and forth.

I quickly draw my weapon and point the gun at Duke, switching between targets. "Back off. You two are simple thieves. It doesn't need to go this way."

"Duke." The avian mumbles staring at my gun nervously, his body position somewhat defensive.

Duke raises a hand to quiet him. "It's a fake, don't worry about it. Right buddy? A fake, right?" He laughs. "So, you got it all wrong. No, we're killers mate. When we don't get what we want from the people we stop, we kill them. Understand me?"

"Completely." I respond, pulling back the hammer and planting a round square in the avian's throat. His natural plating seems useless against .45 hollowpoint bullets. Duke stumbles back and his eyes go wide.

"Death begets death." I mumble before firing off three rounds into his chest. He gasps, stumbling away.

I approach the last man of this sad little street gang, the reptilian fellow. I level my weapon with his head.

He whimpers and closes his eyes, turning his head away from me.

"Your name." I say. "What is it?"

He looks at me. "Uren."

"Sounds like Urine. Alright Urine." I say, smiling. "How many crimes have you committed?"

He frowns at me. "What?"

"How many crimes have you committed?" I ask again, sounding annoyed by the notion of repeating myself.

"One… Well… I guess. This was going to be my first crime." He responds. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Why did you try to mug me?" I ask.

"Money." He responds. "I need money."

"Why?" I ask, still pointing the gun at him.

"I owe a debt. I need money to pay him back. He has my family. My… my wife." Urine says sounding scared.

"Oh? What is this man's name?" I ask, kneeling, my gun still pointed at him. "Where is he?"

"His name is Dex. He owns the Corner Club here on Aroch."

"Aroch?" I ask.

"Yeah, we're on the Aroch Ward. Are you new to the Citadel too?" He asks.

I don't respond, just looking up at the sky. Above the flying cars I see two massive walls that have cities. What's strange is that they're above me, those cities are hanging from the sky? Artificial gravity perhaps? There is a gap between the two walls where I see purplish white light pouring through.

What is this place?

**##########################################################**

**About the Author:**

Bear with me here, I don't often write about myself, nor will I do so often. Don't expect to see many author's comments, but I will do them every now and again.

My pseudonym is ComaKilledAKing413. You can call me ComaKill for short, or just Coma, if it pleases you. I am currently a college student with former military experience. I write because I have a very active imagination and a temper that tends to get off kilter a bit. Anger management classes suggested creative writing as a method of its subject matter. I started with simple things. I would just barf my brains onto a piece of paper. It sort of became a hobby that stuck with me. I spend a lot of free time writing because I enjoy doing it. I like video games but I don't play them much at all. I'll try my damnedest to make this interesting for you to read.

I'm an ambitious fellow and as a result of my military life (Which is way behind me these days) I'm a team player. I enjoy collaborative projects, so if you like this story and you'd like a feature yourself to help contribute to this story, or even your own, please contact me and we can collaborate. I am currently collaborating with a handful of authors in Mass Effect FF and a few have agreed to let me utilize OCs to a limited extent. I will not abuse this privilege but I most definitely won't be wasting it either. They will appear later on.

I proofread all of my chapters a few times, but grammatical errors or tiny spelling mistakes may be looked over. I apologize for this. I'm a business and accounting major, not an English major (even though I probably would've enjoyed that more.)

Inspiration for this story is contributed to the Mass Effect series mostly, and fanfiction authors here on

If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.


	2. Chapter 2: Citadel

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUDGEMENT**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

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**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers. Enjoy.**

**CHAPTER 2**

**CITADEL**

**##########################################################**

**I'm on something called the Aroch Ward, whatever that means. I'm not sure of the date quite yet… and this place undoubtedly has its own method of time measurement… But according to my watch I've been here about ten minutes… And already I'm making friends.**

I kneel next to the dead avian creature.

I turn to the reptilian man, Urine. "You come here."

He approaches nervously. I point at the dead avian creature. "What is this?"

He frowns at me. "I don't understand… What do you mean? That was… well, he wasn't my friend. Not really."

"I mean what _is _this thing?" I ask, looking at the strange creature. "Is it male? Why is it covered in lustrous plates? What cultural, social or religious significance do his face's markings have?"

"You're joking. Right? You've got to be joking." The reptilian man scoffs nervously, stepping away and looking over his shoulder at nobody before looking back at me. "You're totally joking."

I rise and take a step towards him, causing him to take a step back. I lower my head slightly, tilt it slightly to the side and raise an eyebrow.

"You're not joking…" Urine says, pointing out the absolute obvious. "He's well he's… But you're human. How can you not recognize him?"

"Well I don't know him." I quip, sarcastically. "And I know full well that I'm… Well… Human might be a tad debatable but that's not what I asked you. Is it? What is this thing?"

"That's a turian dammit." Urine cringes at my aggressive tone. "He's a male and the face markings are just a cultural thing. They distinguish where they originated from. Alright? How can you not recognize he's a turian? I'd understand why you wouldn't recognize what species I am-"

"While we're on that topic, what are you, exactly?" I ask, interrupting him.

"I'm… I'm a drell." He responds.

I nod thoughtfully, remembering this new information. "I see. I see. Now is there any particular reason why I shouldn't recognize this 'turian?'"

"Well… yeah. Were you born yesterday or something?" He asks.

I check my watch which has fried during the time travel apparently but he doesn't know that. I guesstimate. "No I was born about nine minutes ago and about seven minutes ago you attempted to mug me. Now, what am I missing here?"

The drell looks absolutely bewildered by me. "Uh… Well, the turians were the first species the humans ever encountered and there was a war between them called the First Contact war by your species."

I nod, fascinated by this information. "I see. What year is it?"

He blinks at you. "It's 2174."

I nod thoughtfully. "That's strange. I do seem to have travelled backwards, but based on my surroundings I'm clearly in a highly technological society, more than mine was… Maybe I am in some sort of alternate reality in which there was no Great War… No nuclear fallout… No meta-humans. I'm about a century off of the year I intended to be at but I still seem to have managed to end up in a more beneficial, albeit excessively and quite considerably uncomfortably new world. Aliens… Of all the things I've seen. I never thought I'd see aliens."

I chuckle quietly.

"Uh… mister." Urine says to me, recapturing my attention. "Can I go now?"

"No." I respond. "Stay there or I'll kill you."

I wouldn't actually kill him but lying at this point it necessary. I quickly search the two corpses, looking for anything I might be able to use. Oh? What's this I see? On the… 'Turian' I find an interesting cuff. I place it on my wrist and examine it for a button or something. Suddenly an orange holographic display engulfs my arm from my elbow to my fingertips. I see an interface here, holographic keys weird dial things. This'll take some getting used to. I used to have a wrist computer like The Giant's until it crapped out on me. This seems to be… pretty much the same concept except far more advanced. Alright my super computer, let's see what you can do.

I start fiddling with it, trying to figure out its complex interface. I give up within 30 seconds. This is hopeless. And I don't have time for this.

I continue my pat down of the two muggers and produce both of their wallets. Inside each I find several thin cards with metal edges and plastic bodies. I guess you could call them cards. They're about the size of military dog tags, maybe larger, and have digital readouts with a numerical quantity on it and there are quite a few of these cards. I recall finding some of those pre-war credit cards in my time in the wastes. Such a strange phenomenon, that little piece of plastic could buy you the world if you had the cold hard cash to cover it. Why not just cut out that middle man?

"What are these?" I ask, removing all of them from the wallets.

"Those are fucking credit chits." Urine responds with exasperation. "How the shit do you not know what credits are? It's money weirdo. Humans use that on Earth."

"Watch your mouth, Urine." I snap at him. "So this is your currency eh?"

"Yeah. The guys have been keeping those, hoarding them from me." Urine says, sounding anxious to get his hands on some of these.

"Oh? Are these what muggers are after these days?" I ask examining the cards. "These pieces of plastic and titanium?"

Urine shrugs. "I guess. Whatever weirdo, keep em, can I go now?"

"No." I respond, holding the chits out for him to see. "Which ones were theirs? Officially theirs?"

Urine's brow furrows but he points the two that belonged to the muggers out. I remove them, pocketing them. I take the rest and snap them all in half. Urine's gasp and whimpers of protest as I trash them do nothing to change my mood.

"Why?" Urine asks, with a whimper.

"They were stolen." I responds matteroffactly. "It was wrong to take those. Take money from the corpse of a criminal? Not so questionable. Now Urine, follow me."

"Stop calling me Urine." Urine says sounding annoyed as he follows me back to where they tried to mug me the first time around. "My name is Uren."

"That's what I'm saying." I respond rolling my eyes. "Urine. Uren. There's only a tiny difference, it's barely noticeable.

We arrive at the entrance to the alleyway and onto that busy city street we were at earlier. "Ok, so tell me, what is that?"

I point to a blue woman.

"That's an asari dumbass." Urine responds sounding increasingly annoyed.

"Were they ever at war with the humans?" I ask.

"No but they're on the Council, just like the turians." He responds.

"Council, eh?" I point to one of the gorilla creatures. "Is that on the Council?"

"No, that's an Elcor. They're trying to get on the Council." Urine responds. "Listen this is really weird."

"I imagine it is." I respond. "You mentioned that your family has been kidnapped?"

He nods, looking sad. "Yes. What's it to you?"

"Well, I'm going to go get them back and kill this… Dex was it?" I ask. He nods, looking nervous again. "And I'll do this, totally free of charge as long as you help me with what I need help with."

"And that would be?" He asks.

"Identifying these strange creatures." I respond. "Now tell me, are those flaps of flesh on the Elcor's face its mouth? Or is are they more of a reproductive organ of sorts."

"That's its mouth." Urine replies, glancing at me.

I point to one of the reptilian men with the fleshy horns. "What is that?"

"That's a Salarian. They're on the Council too." Urine says.

"I see, why is he buzzing around like an insect? He's moving so quickly!" I say with a small laugh.

"Salarians have extremely fast metabolisms. They only live about 50 years. So they move fast." Urine says with a shrug.

"Shame that not everything with a fast metabolism lives for so long." I comment.

Urine gives me a look. "Huh?"

"This little creature?" I ask indicating one of the fat armored dwarf that waddles by, wheezing.

"That's a Volus, they're trying to get onto the Council as well." Urine responds.

"Why does he wheeze?" I ask.

"They can't breathe our air. It's literally too clean for them." He responds.

"Funny. What is that thing?" I point out the glowing pink squid.

"That's a Hanar." Urine responds. "My people are in indebted to them. When our planet was rotting away due to our mistakes, they came and saved us and brought us to their home world: Khaje."

I nod, rubbing my chin. "Fascinating. Truly fascinating. Oh, lord, there is a gigantic frog man coming this way. He looks like he means business."

"Oh shit, that's Laroke, Dex's main enforcer." Urine moves to leave but I grab his wrist. "Let me go!"

"I don't care who he is!" I snap at him. "I want to know what he is!"

"Let me go dammit! He'll kill us both." Urine exclaims.

I feel this Laroke shove me out of the way, grabbing Urine, by the throat. I fall to the ground but get back up quickly, drawing my pistol and pointing it at the frog man.

Laroke stops his one-sided conversation about missing payments to Urine and turns to look at me, beady red eyes narrowing in anger. "You're pushing your luck, human."

His voice shakes the ground. Normally that would definitely be intimidating but I'm not intimidated by the likes of him. I've fist fought irradiated bears before and won (after 4 deaths and about 32 hours).

"Dex hired me to collect the debt from Urine. I was bringing him back to him." I hiss at the frog man, Laroke, whose eyes narrow in confusion. "He's my quarry. I suggest you take your hands off of him and walk away."

"Dex hired you? You tiny human weakling?" Laroke growls at me. "You're nothing. Dex told me to get a payment or two out of this puny scaled weakling but now I think I'll just kill you and bring him back to Dex myself."

"You seem to be confused. Or really, really stupid. Maybe you have poor perceptive capabilities. Maybe all of the above." I cock my gun. "But I'm the one with the gun to your head right now."

"That? A gun?" He scoffs. "I don't even know what that is."

"It's a gun." I say sounding confident not cocky. "It's a gun and it'll rip a hole through your fucking brain."

Laroke is silent for a moment before releasing Urine and backing away. He points at me menacingly with his three fingered hand.

"You better watch yourself human." He says. "I won't forget this."

He disappears into the flow of people and I holster my pistol. Urine looks up at me shaking his head.

"Oh, you've done it now!" He exclaims. "Once Dex hears about what you did they'll come and kill me. Why'd you have to lie like that?"

"In an hour it won't matter." I say, confidently. "Take me to the Corner Club."

"But-"

"Now."

**##########################################################**

**It takes us about 15 minutes to reach the Corner Club here on the Aroch Ward, my sense of righteous justice and my moral compass overpowering my better judgment.**

"This is it." Urine says. "Can I go now?"

The trip over here was quite an eye opening experience. It wasn't much of a walk but I walked through bustling streets, huge crowds of people going in and out of stores and housing complexes. This place is fantastic.

I look at him. "Yes actually. But your wife will be coming out in a bit. I'll have her quite soon, don't worry about it."

"How soon?" He asks nervously.

"Anywhere from 5 minutes to… well, if I fail I'll get to keep trying at 8 hour intervals so… we'll see. Just wait around here." I say with a shrug.

I enter the club which is pretty busy as of right now. It appears to be some sort of dancing club. People are dancing and drinking and having a good time without worrying about sexually transmitted diseases or the spread of latent radiation causing mutations. I could get used to this place.

I mean, seeing as how I'm not in a terrible atomic wasteland and I'm beyond the year 2017 and the human race is still in existence along with co-existence with alien life forms my original goal seems a bit moot at this point.

I have no doubt that my wormhole didn't take me where I wanted to go. But is this better? I'm alive and I'm in a better world. But maybe I wanted to die.

I walk towards the bar and take a seat. One of the bartenders, another turian, approaches me.

"What's your poison, pal?" He asks me.

I think. My favorite liquors might not exist anymore. I'm feeling adventurous. "Something strong. Something not human but something that won't kill me please."

He grins and walks away while I take a credit chit out of my pocket.

He returns with a tall glass of violet and slightly glowing liquid. I give him a look as I hand him the credit chit.

He grins at me. "That's going to be some funky stuff brother. It'll taste a bit strange but trust me it's about as close to the strongest stuff you humans can take."

I shrug and down as much of the glass as possible. It's sort of slimy in texture and it tastes like thick cream, very sweet. There is however a very powerful burning in my throat as I drink it down. I knock back the rest and cringe at the taste.

He grins. "Anything else buddy?"

"Just a quick question." I say. "I've got business with Dex. Where can I find him?"

"He's in his office in the back." The bartender responds, suddenly looking very serious. "Want me to call him and tell him you're here?"

I shrug. "Couldn't hurt, but I'm heading on over there now. Go for it if you want but I'm about to go talk to him anyway. Besides, it looks like you have a lot of customers to take care of."

He nods. "Alright, see you later, buddy."

I know that was a test. If I said no, he'd call Dex anyways, ask about me. If I said yes, again he'd call him. Either way he was going to call him, so I needed to give him a reason not to. I look over through the crowd, across the dance floor and spot a discreet door with one of those large frog men. From this distance, I can't tell if that's Laroke or not. I make my way towards him, moving through the crowd slowly so that I don't attract too much attention to myself. I'm making progress but there are a lot of people.

I feel a hand on my arm, fingers wrapping over my bicep but not nearly engulfing them. I look back as the person who grabbed me turns me around.

"Hey handsome." She says. A human girl. Young, no older than 22 maybe 23. "Where are you running off to?"

"Uh." I start.

"Your arms are gigantic." She says, as she looks down at the arm she's holding with both hands, running her small fingers around its girth. Her tone is difficult to make out. Seductive or friendly? I'm not sure. "I really like your outfit too."

I look down at myself and look back up at her with a quizzical expression. "Really?"

At the moment I'm currently wearing a pair of really worn out Chuck Taylors that I found pretty much pristine in a fallout bunker. My legs are covered by a pair of black BDUs that hug to my thighs and claves but hang onto my shoes and are loose enough to allow easy movement. My knees are also protected by black combat knee pads that sport padded interiors and a cap with a ridge for a better damage output if I knee somebody in the face or something. I have Catherine holstered in a leg holster on my right side with an extra magazine and her silencer in pouches with it. Sheathed on my belt on my left side, along my lower back is Vagabond, my knife.

The graphic on the t-shirt I'm wearing became kind of my symbol so I had a bunch made so I didn't have to wear the dirty old one all of the time. The original is long gone and the one I'm currently wearing is one of the duplicates. The shirt itself is black and fits rather tightly so I can wear body armor or tactical vests over it, though I don't have anything like that right now. The graphic on the t-shirt is simply a single chevron about two or three inches thick comes down from my shoulders to its point just below my sternum, on top of my diaphragm. The chevron is done in dark gun-metal grey and is semi-lustrous. On my left shoulder, the very end of the chevron is cut off, as if someone took a knife and sliced off the end of the chevron. The cut is perpendicular to the ground. The 'sliced off' bit of the chevron is still in place but it is a shiny silver in color. People started to take to that logo or design or whatever it was and equated it to me: The Vigilante/Vengeance/Prometheus/Justice/all my other monikers. I liked the idea of having a flag to fly and to call my own so I adopted the symbol.

I'm not wearing much else. I have a throat microphone that hasn't given me anything but hissing static since I got here so I turned it off on the way here.

She smiles at me and nods enthusiastically. "I love your look! It's so retro and so rugged. You look like a hunter or something. It's so different from what people wear here nowadays but it still kind of fits in. It's cool. And your face even has that rough and rugged look. It's totally hot."

I give her a quizzical look again. "Uh. Really?"

She smiles and nods again. "Totally!"

"You're uh… Excitable." I say, not very loudly.

She smiles still. "Thanks!"

She laughs. Or giggles. Probably the latter.

She places her hands on my waist and begins to dance, deftly moving her hips side to side, side stepping and stepping forward and moving with skill and precision and experience. She bites her lower lip and looks up at me with her head tilted down slightly. Even with her lavish display of her suitability as a mate (I'm thinking about this biologically) I still stand there, feeling uncomfortable and just want to get my job done.

She smiles despite my rigidity and lowers her hands to my hips trying to coax me into moving them to the side like she is. "Come on! You're so stiff, you have to loosen up a little, just have fun!"

"I've never… Danced before." I admit a little bashfully as she continues to try to coax me into dancing.

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen in surprise. "You've never danced?! Oh man, you don't know what you've been missing!"

"I've never been to a place that had dancing to be honest." I say giving her an embarrassed look.

Fewer and fewer things have embarrassed me as the years went on. Eventually the only thing I ever got embarrassed about in the slightest was when I died in a stupid way. Like tripping and braining myself on a desk even when there's no impending dangers around at all.

But this is about as far out of my comfort zone and skill set as I can be. I've never done anything remotely resembling dancing. Ever. Nor have I had any sort of social interaction with a female like this. The social interactions I've had with women include drinking with them or talking with them.

That's it. And they both usually work solely because they have few options and I'm not the worst option around.

"Well, it's easy let me help you." She turns around and arches her back, pressing her rather firm well developed buttocks against my pelvis. "Now all you need to do is lean back a little and enjoy."

I lean back slightly and she begins to gyrate and gesticulate with her rear in a rather eye opening fashion and the experience broken down is simply two parts friction, and three parts pleasing. It's been sometime since I've copulated with a female. Maybe after I finish my business here…

"Getting antsy there handsome?" She asks as the song rounds out and she turns around pressing her body up against mine, her hands resting on my chest. I instinctively rest my hands on her hips which are nicely shaped for such a petite person. "Where do you need to be so quickly?"

"I actually have some business with the club owner." I respond.

Her body is pressed up to me so much I'm starting to think her goal is to put as much of her body's surface area against me as physically possible. Her cheek which is just a little sticky from her exercise just now is pressed up against mine, her shoulder length hair is brushing my face.

"How about you call me sometime?" She asks. "I'd love for us to get to know one another better.

Without waiting for a response she presses something into my hand and sticks her tongue in my ear before turning around and disappearing into the crowd but not before giving me a practically cruel display by swaying her shapely hips from side to side for me.

I take a deep breath and look at the small paper napkin in my hand. It has a string of numerals on it along with a heart along with XOXO.

I frown at the paper napkin. She obviously didn't write this while we were together, even if I was semi-distracted by her 'dancing.'

This leaves me to deduce that she had this pre-written. Some sort of hunter of men, no doubt. Her courtesan-like behavior is unbecoming of such an attractive young lady. I should throw this away.

Yet I shove the paper in my back pocket. Why do this, Jack? In 200 years of life, are you really, not beyond such simplistic trivial, for lack of a better term, urges? Are you really going to lower yourself, with all your sophisticated intelligence, by, for lack of better phrasing, fucking a bar skank?

I shake the thought out of my head and continue on my way to the back to where the frog man is standing. As I finally manage to break through the crowd I notice that the frog man isn't the one called Laroke from earlier. There are only subtle differences, but I seem to recall that Laroke was a bit taller than this fellow, but less broad.

"What do you want human?" He asks as I reach him.

"I'm here to see Dex." I respond.

"He's not here to see you, human." The frog man snaps back. "Now fuck off."

"It's in his best interests to see me." I say. "I've got a business offer he might be interested in."

"Do you?" The frog man scoffs. "Let's hear it."

"Drugs." I say, simply. "I'm a producer. I've got better shit that nobody else produces but me. He'll be interested."

"Let's see it." He says.

I take a syringe with a narcotic concoction out of my left cargo pocket. I show the frog man but when he reaches for it, I step away and put the syringe back in my pocket. I always carry some of this with me. Powerful stuff, though it'll be a tad bit more difficult to manufacture in this world. Lord knows what sort of narcotics this world has.

The frog man frowns. "Hand it over human."

"I only have this one syringe's worth. How can I make a pitch to Dex if you sample it, frog man?" I ask him. "Besides… you're working."

He scoffs and grins, by lifting the side of his wide mouth, baring his array of large flat, teeth that remind me of a rhinoceros's and squinting his eye, at my quip. "First off, human, your 'frog man' attempt at derogatory comments is wasted. I don't know what a frog is and I could give a damn about what it is. Want a better one? Next time tell a krogan he's rocking a 'pair' and see how that turns out for you."

Based on context clues, I'm going to assume that these frog men are called krogan. Also lost to me no thanks to context clues is the insult. How is telling someone they have balls going to insult them? Maybe krogan think testicles are disgusting and horrible? Lord knows that I do. Awful things, just flopping around, waiting for something to inflict pain on you. Good for nothing. "Thanks for the tip. Now, can I see Dex?"

He nods and continues to grin. "Yeah, go on, human. Don't cause too much trouble."

I walk through the door into a hallway that goes immediately left. The club was lit with dull blue and purple lights. Some reds. And as a stark contrast this hallway and beyond are lit from above with stale white lighting, almost too bright if the lights weren't spaced so far apart. I follow the hall through another open doorway into a large room. Immediately I recognize this room as a drug factory. People with masks and elbow high gloves handle, on sterile metal tables various chemical concoctions and trays with drugs on them. Shelves containing extra supplies adorn the walls. Some of the drug workers look up at me as I pass by, making an effort to look important and that I know what I'm doing. To an extent, I do. But in a strange new world this is a little peculiar. For one, this is larger than any drug lab I've ever seen in my lives. And I know that this one isn't put together inside the ruins of a post-apocalyptic wasteland but it's still a little daunting. I also have the feeling that this simple racket business is only one of the smaller examples of the drug labs that inhabit the world I live in now. I'm sure that dedicated ones are much bigger.

Which frightens me just a bit. I actively try to destroy these but this one is bigger than any I've encountered before and I'm only one room into this racket. Who knows what's beyond this? My crime fighting days are going to be more challenging here, that's for sure.

I grin very widely at this thought. A challenge, after 200 years.

Thank God.

I reach the other end of the drug lab and proceed through another open door with a guard by it who just lazily acknowledges me. I head down another hallway with several doors, all open. I look into a few of them. A few reveal themselves to be store rooms for various things. One that I take particular note of is the break room for the guards which houses at least half a dozen guards of varying xenobiology. Some Human, some Turian, a Salarian and another Krogan.

Based on their size, I'm hypothesizing that Krogan are the popular guards, bouncers and enforcers of the world.

I reach the end of the hall with the only closed door in the whole place and guard standing by it.

The Turian stops me. "Hold on. What's your business?"

"I'm a drug manufacturer. I'm pitching to Dex." I responds.

The Turian frowns at me, rotating his mandibles down and out, lowing his brow ridge. "Is he expecting you?"

"No." I respond.

"Wait here." The Turian commands, sounding forceful. He enters the office, shutting the door behind him.

I listen through the door but don't hear anything. The only thing I hear is the dull thumping of the music from the club and the noises of the television in the break room.

The Turian returns and nods me inside. "Be quick."

I nod back and enter Dex's office which is a poorly lit and spacious room. On the right wall there is a personal bar and a large bed with a haphazardly arranged set of pillows and blankets. I take note of several pairs of handcuffs on the bed, all half hooked to the bed's frame. The far wall across from the entrance is mostly a large window that curves slightly, overlooking a fair amount of the bustling city in the distance. And to my left is a security system with a large TV broken into smaller viewing windows of security cameras that are watching the club.

Dex's desk is in the center of the room. It's overly wide and gaudy. Dex is sitting in his chair, scanning credit chit after credit chit with his holographic wrist thing, before discarding them into a waste bin. He picks up a bright silver one in the center of his desk before he looks up at me. He's dressed ridiculously, lots of colors and atypical clothing from what I've seen. Golden chains hang round his neck and he has several rings on his fingers as well as several piercings along his left mandible, golden rings with some precious stones set into them. I take a seat in one of the low lying chairs across from his desk.

"What do you want?" He asks, sounding impatient. "My guard said you're a drug producer. I'm sure on your way in here you saw my lab, one of the largest drug rackets on Aroch Ward. Clearly we can produce our own shit, but I'm not a stupid guy. I'm a businessman. I know an opportunity when I see one and so far… not impressed. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. What do you got for ol' Dex?"

I produce the syringe of narcotics. "It's call Jet. This is the injection, but I'm working on making it an inhalant. It'll trip the shit out of you, boss."

Dex scoffs. "That's all well and good, but I mean, will it kill me?"

I'm thrown off by his bluntness. Can he see through my ruse? I decide not to break it and continue to play along. "How do you mean?"

He shrugs. "I mean is it only for levo aminos, cause if it is then I don't want it."

Levo amino… levo amino acid? … This alien's DNA is not levo amino based. His DNA turns the other way to dextro… Interesting. So this tall fellow here cannot eat chocolate. An odd conclusion, but a conclusion all the same. If so, this narcotic cocktail could possibly kill him. Or do nothing to him whatsoever. Better not try it.

In the blink of an eye I snatch one of the objects on his desk that looks heavy and hurl it at his head. The object connects, bounces off his head and drops to the ground with a loud thud. His head lolls back off the back of his chair. I hope I didn't kill him yet.

I vault the desk and sit on the edge of it, rotating his chair towards me. I'm about to feel for his pulse when I realize that he's an alien and it might not work the same for him. Well… He's bleeding.

That tells me he has some sort of aortic pump. I put my ear to his chest and hear some beating. Alright. Turians have hearts somewhere in their torso I think. I search his pockets and find some keys and run over to his bed where I unlock the handcuffs and hook them on my belt loop. I look at the door and move over to that to find a lock of some kind. I do, and dead bolt the door shut. I then move towards the bar but hear raps of the door.

"Boss?" I hear the Turian guard call, his voice slightly muffled by the door. "Boss? Why'd you lock the door? Boss, you alright? I'm… I'm getting help."

I set about popping the corks off of some of the bottles and smelling them for alcoholic content. I find the strongest ones and cap them off. I take armfuls of the rest and drop them all by the door way. I return to the bar and take the strong alcohols to Dex's desk. I place them on top and sit on the edge of the desk. I handcuff his wrists to the arm rests of the chair and then handcuff his ankles together. I then use the last handcuff to secure his restrained ankles to one of the legs of the chair.

I clear my throat and readjust my seat before uncorking a bottle of alcohol and pouring it slowly on his bleeding forehead.

He winces and as the alcohol flows over his eyes, nose and mouth he sputters awake.

"I'll talk and you'll listen." I say, returning the bottle to the desk.

"You're dead you fucking idiot!" Dex growls at me. "Once my boys get in here-"

"I'll be done with you by then." I say, drawing my knife. "Now, I'll talk and you'll listen and when I ask you a question you'll answer in a means that I find satisfactory. If you do not answer in a satisfactory manner, I will start cutting. Now: Where is Urine's wife?"

"What?" He asks in confusion. "That's what this is fucking about?! Fuck you! Ahh! AAAAAGH!"

I drag the blade across the crook of his elbow and then let the blade bisect his bicep. "Same question."

"She's in the fucking drug lab!" He exclaims, hissing through the pain. He starts to laugh. "I-I've been using her as a tester for the drugs, hahahaha! She'll be hooked her whole life now! HahahaaaaaaaaAAAAGH! AAAAAAGH AAAAHAHAHAAAAGH! AAAAGH AHAOOOOOWWW! OOOOWWWW!"

I plunge my blade into his forearm, cutting him off mid laugh and rip it towards his hand before withdrawing it. I set about cutting some of his clothing off of his body, making long strips that I set on the desk.

"Oh you're so fucking dead…" He hisses, his body quivering involuntarily. He continues to soliloquy even as I remove bits of his clothing from his torso. "So fucki-"

I interrupt him by stabbing him through the throat. I leave the knife there as I start up capping the bottles and shoving the cloth into their heads. I tip them and soak the rags with booze.

I remove the blade wiping it off on his pant leg before sheathing it. I shove his limp corpse and the chair away with a push from my foot before kneeling in front of his desk. I start opening the drawers. In one I find a bunch of bags of what I assume are drugs. Useless to me right now. In another I find some personal grooming products. And in one I find what appears to be a trio of massive pistols.

I remove one of the three identical weapons and examine it. It looks roughly like a revolver, with a curved, ergonomic, soft grip, a cylinder with a glowing red ring on the front inside of a chamber in the center of the weapon above the trigger. In front of the chamber, the barrel, with a ported rail on top, is thick, almost as wide as the grip and it's tall, covering the length of the chamber. It has front and rear sights on it and along with that I find another three more cylinders with red rings in the drawer. Well, it's clearly a firearm of some sort. I'm not even going to pretend I know how to use this. It took me weeks to figure out energy weapons and don't even get me started on things like power armor and exoskeletons. I'll take the time to figure out this new weapon later. I stow the revolver-like weapons all in my waist band at my lower back and drop the extra cylinders in my cargo pocket.

Finally I take his credit chit off of his desk. It's platinum in color as opposed to the blue ones already in my pocket I examine the reader display for the credit chit. That's a lot of money. More than a lot of money actually. Well… maybe it isn't but it's more than there were on the chits of those two muggers I killed. I pocket the credit chit and return to Dex's corpse as a thought pops into my head. I remove the cuff that displays his holographic thing and put it in my cargo pocket. It might come in handy later on.

I then vault over the desk again and sit on the edge waiting, listening to the banging on the door.

I take one of the bottles and take my lighter out of my pocket. It's an old silver lighter with a crosshairs on it. There's a story behind the lighter but I'll hold on to it. I flip open the lighter and light it, ready to light my Molotov cocktail.

The door is rammed open by a krogan and I light the Molotov and throw it. The homemade throwable weapon explodes, lighting the alcohol I dumped on the floor ablaze and instantly immolating the krogan. I grab another Molotov and light it and hop off the desk to get a better throwing posture as I throw it at the guards in the doorway.

My throw was slightly off as it crashes into the door frame but it splashes on the guards with burning alcohol and I draw my pistol, lighting the last cocktail with my free hand. I pocket my lighter and take the Molotov as I advance on the guards in the doorway. I shoot one in the face as he backs away from the flames. The next heard the shot and is trying to take cover which his cohorts do as well.

I chuck the Molotov through the doorway and it explodes on the perfect spot, engulfing the remaining guys in liquid flames. The smoke produced by the smoldering guards sets off the fire alarm and sprinkler system, dousing me in water. I shiver and leap through the flames once they're low enough. I run into the drug lab, the workers are freaking out.

"Where's Urine's wife?!" I shout, my voice booming and carrying to the corners of the room.

I grab one of the workers and shove my pistol still a bit hot from shooting in his face. "Where is she?!"

He points at a door and I drag him over there with me. I throw him into it and point my gun at him. "Open it. Now."

He unlocks the door and immediately sprints away as it opens. I keep my pistol trained through the doorway. Anything could be behind here. But the only person inside is a quivering drell, her body clearly feminine compared to her husband's. She's thin and her scales are faded and pale in some places. Sick probably. Malnourished.

These men deserve a harsher punishment but administer it I will not. I've sworn off death by torture. It's cruel and they deserve mercy as much as punishment.

I move into the small room and place my hand gently on her arm. She twitches but doesn't fight me nor cower from my touch.

"I'm here to save you." I say.

She looks up at me. Large eyes meeting mine. I help her to her feet and let her put her weight on me as I move her out of the drug lab and towards the main club. Upon entering the main club, I notice that it has been vacated and in a hurry it seems. Trash and debris litter the place. Water still pours from the ceiling and it pools in the dance floor.

I notice a large figure enter the club through the main entrance. Laroke spots me easily and glares at me. He bellows and charges at me.

"I'm going to rip you to shreds!" He roars as he bull rushes me.

I fire off a couple of shots but his thick form absorbs them with little damage. In an effort to protect her, I throw the drell female to the side and jump up in the air throwing my hands down on the krogan's shoulders as he rams into me. I take the brunt of the hit to the gut, knocking the wind out of me but doing little else. I push off his shoulders and throw myself towards the ground where I roll as he charges into the wall. There's a loud bang as I return to my feet, shooting the krogan a few more times in his massive back.

He growls, turning around as the bullets continue to strike him. He starts walking towards me coving his face with his arms as I continue to shoot at him. I back away, throwing furniture in his path as he approaches, finally my magazine runs empty and I quickly holster it, drawing my knife.

He uncovers his face, his eyes bloodshot with rage, his teeth grinding as he approaches me. He swings an arm for me which I duck under before scrambling between his legs quickly. I turn around and slash at the backs of his thighs near to his joints to try and get some result. No such luck other than his thighs quivering in pain. I stab him in his lower back where his kidneys would be if he were human and then withdraw, circling and sidestepping to avoid him as he turns around, swinging his arms like a madman, howling in rage the whole time. I think I'm just pissing him off.

I stub under his ribcage close to his armpit before leaping onto his back, using the knife to help hold me to him.

I get a grip on the edge of the large hump on his back and begin stabbing and ripping at it with my knife. He grunts and growls trying the throw me off as orange-red blood splashes out over my arms getting washed away shortly thereafter by the sprinkler system. This isn't doing anything. I pull myself forward towards his head and neck, keeping a hold on his hump for leverage.

I examine his thrashing head and see that in addition to his massive thick bone headplate there are bone-like ridges running back from it down his neck, further protecting him. Well shit! I then notice a small gap between the ridge and his headplate and ram my knife into the gap.

He freezes instantly and doesn't even make an attempt to reach for me. Looks like a found an interesting spot.

"Don't you dare, human." Laroke hisses at me.

"Have you ever killed anyone, krogan?" I ask him. "Have a pair on you, krogan?"

He growls but doesn't make a move to pull me off of him. "You better just get off me. I'll even let you go because I'm so generous.

I move my knife, finding his headplate shifts rather dramatically forwards. It looks like I can just pop this thing right off then. Just like an arm from its socket. "I asked you a question."

"Of course I've killed people dammit!" He gasps, twitching as I move the knife a bit more. "A lot! Who fucking cares?!"

"I do." I say, wrenching my blade forwards, popping his headplate off of his forehead with a sickening crack. He howls in agony, trying to hold it in place as stumbles about. I walk around to his front and drive my blade into his head from below, ramming it through his mouth and nasal cavity and into his brain. He freezes from his howling and stumbling, his eyes losing their blood red color before he topples over to the side. I rip my knife out of his head and wipe it off on his clothes. I approach the drell girl again, picking her up and carrying her out of the club. I head over to where I told Urine to wait for me, in a nearby alley and enter it.

I call out to him and he pokes his head out from behind a dumpster, his eyes going wider than normal.

"Oh by the Enkindlers!" He gasps, tears welling up in his eyes. "You actually did it!"

I nod and hand the drell girl over to him. "Yes I did."

"Why would you help me?" He asks, baffled. "I tried to mug you, steal everything you had."

"Yes, but you failed, and you'd never done anything like that before." I say. "That makes you redeemable in my eyes. I've seen many men turn to crime to try and help those they loved. Does that make them innocent? No, and it doesn't justify anything, but you aren't a criminal. But that man in there was and he needed to be stopped and an innocent person needed to be saved. I did what I had to do, nothing more, nothing less. I will say this though: You came close to a life of crime. Don't go down that path again or you won't see mercy from me again."

"I understand." He says no longer sounding threatened by me. "Thank you, stranger. I don't know how I can thank you."

I shrug. "No need to thank me at all. It's time I left. I need to find answers."

He nods. "Good luck."

I nod back to him and turn around checking both ways before walking off, away from the club where I see numerous blue, silver and black armored men and women collecting, armed and ready. An organized, well supplied law enforcement agency. I wonder if they're private or part of the governing body. Which reminds me: I don't know what governing body that might be.

Urine talked much about a 'Council.' Perhaps they're in charge? And apparently I'm in some place called the Citadel. I'm curious as to where that actually is. I wander somewhat aimlessly, following the flow of the crowds. I'm standing out due to my extremely wet appearance however. I have to get new clothes.

I find a clothing store quickly that caters to humans. I nod at the store clerk who gives me a puzzled look before shaking his head and returning to read his magazine.

I select a fresh change of clothing that I like before purchasing them.

"Is it alright if I change in the dressing room and wear these out?" I ask him. "I'm a little wet."

"Yeah, no shit." He responds, handing me back my credit chit. "Go for it buddy."

I walk into the clothing store with my new garments and strip down. I put on fresh underwear which feels positively heavenly. I've never had fresh _new_ garments before. It's absolutely exceptional. Next I pull on a pair of black socks and next a pair of soft black pants that are slim on the thigh and straight on the leg. I usually don't like to wear tight clothing like this but I'm not in any kind of situation to be picky. Next I pull on some black and dark green apparently 'trendy' shoes that do little for me other than look sort of nice.

Next I pull on a tight long sleeved thin white shirt with a slightly low crew collar and pull on a dark green military/utility jacket with a black hood over my shirt. I stow all my wet clothes and gear, including the three large revolver-like guns, in the plastic shopping bags then put those into the black backpack I purchased as well.

I throw the backpack over my shoulders and zip the jacket up partway, putting the hood up as well. I take a second to reload Catherine with my last 15 rounds, being sure to make sure they're both dry before putting her in my jacket pocket. I take Vagabond in his sheath and loop it through my dark brown leather belt which is a bit damp but not too bad. I cover the knife with my jacket and exit the dressing room.

I exit the store quickly. It's a lot of walking before I realize that I don't know where I'm going, I'm just following the paths. It's still more walking before I even start thinking about anything. So many questions, so few answers. First I need to know how to use my new stuff. Using my credit chit seems as simple as them scanning it with one of those holographic wrist things. I look at mine realizing I don't even know how to use it. I notice a vendor shouting to the crowds about something, it looks like he's using his holographic wrist doodad to show his customer something.

I approach the vendor, watching him show his customer something on his holographic display. Some sort of high intensity game or video by my assumption and based on the sheer number of explosions on the screen. The customer shakes their head and leaves. The vendor notices me, smiling. He's a salarian, one of the tall lanky reptilian men but his smile is quite recognizable as a smile, as opposed to other aliens I've met so far.

"Hello, sir, are you interesting in one of our games?" He asks. "I've got tons that I can sell you."

"Actually." I say walking up and leaning on the counter, dropping my hood. "I'm pretty new to these, just got one today."

I show him the cuff on my wrist.

He nods understandingly. "I see! Well, I can show you the ropes and if you're interested, how about considering getting one of our games."

"Show me how to use this and some cool tricks and I'll buy more than one game." I reply, not actually interested in games but willing to repay him for the help.

"Well, your omni-tool has so many features I can't show you all of them." He says, opening his own and instructing you to do so.

"Er…" I mumble, scratching my head as I look at my wrist for a switch or something.

The salarian chuckles. "Hey buddy, don't worry about it. It's hard for some people to pick up. The cuff senses your nerve signals, most people keep opening it on its default setting, you just rotate your wrist in, close your hand lightly and touch the heel of your hand with each finger one by one."

I do as he says and the holographic display of my omni-tool lights up.

"There you go." He says with a grin. "Now just open your hand, palm flat."

He then proceeds to show me how to scan things with the scanner and readers around my hand, and then he shows me how to use the interfaces involved with my left hand. He shows me how I can use my omni-tool to surf the 'extranet' which seems to be some sort of vast improved version of the pre-war internet that I heard so much about. He shows me how to use the various applications on it and how I can program my omni-tool to access other things like my bank account to transfer funds to or from credit chits and he also shows me how to use my codex which all omni-tools are programmed with in case I have any more specific inquiries about it. It seems this codex is a one stop shop to all my information needs. If I don't know what something is, I can scan it with my omni-tool and my codex will identify it. This will be an invaluable tool.

As he looks through my omni-tool he frowns. "Did you buy this used?"

I nod, finding his story to be a bit less sketchy than mine.

"No problem, let's just reset the settings here for you." He says doing so. "This way at least it can register to you and not to anybody else.

"Also uh…" The vendor looks side to side for eavesdroppers despite the dozens of people moving around us. I lean in to listen to him. "I'm not supposed to show people how to do this but… I like you buddy, you're cool people. And you… you don't look like you work in an office behind a desk if you know what I mean. The military, C-Sec, mercenaries and some colonists have special programs that they punched into their omni-tools. See, remember how I told you about the micro-fabricator?"

How could I forget? Apparently this thing on my wrist can actually create almost everything from tools to ammunition. Not food though. Because that would be too easy. Right? Also this guy seems to be eliciting some illegal activity here. I know I'm all for righteous justice and everything but most specifically I end criminals who directly cause the deaths or injuries of the innocent. This guy is selling me illegal materials. Could his actions have cause the deaths of others? Maybe, but very indirectly. He doesn't seem like a bad person to me. I'll hear him out. Besides, there's no specific code of law I follow, more like a moral compass. Murder, rape, theft, narcotics trade, slavery, arson, extortion, all the violent crimes which directly and negatively impact people, those are the criminals I hunt. Illegal weapons trade? That's a bit iffy for me. If the weapons trader sells in large quantities to slaver groups, obviously that's not cool, but if they sell under the table weapons that aren't specifically legal but don't really have the intention of hurting people.

"Well, there are programs that can actually use those micro fabricators as weapons." He closes his fist and the end of the omni-tool creates an orange double sided blade with holes from the tip to the base at his knuckles around his fist, making a very large and deadly punch blade. He opens his hand and the blade disintegrates into an orange sparkling powder. He turns his hand over and flattens his hand and shows me as a device similar to a crossbow of the same luminescent orange as the omni-tool and blade appears, a small missile with a flashing red tip already loaded. He keys in something and both disintegrate.

"What were those?" I ask.

"The first one was called an omni-blade. They're totally customizable, if you know the right programs, and totally deadly. They're not really ever used much because of the effectiveness of modern guns but it's still a useful tool to have for us common folk, in my opinion." He explains. "And the other one is a military and law enforcement combat program called Incinerate. It makes that crossbow you saw to shoot an incendiary projectile at your enemies. It's upgradable if you can get your hands on the programs. Totally deadly. There are other kinds that I don't have, like Cryo Blast which can freeze things solid or Overload which is designed to overwhelm electric systems, everything from nervous systems to electronics with a blast of electricity."

"Badass." I say with a grin.

"I know right." He says leaning back. "So, are you interesting in buying any _games_?"

It takes me a second but I catch on to what he's talking about. "Oh! Yeah! I'd love to get my hands on both the ones you showed me."

"Cool man. It'll be a bit pricy, just warning you now." He fishes out a pair of tiny black cards in cases. "Here guy, just pop these into your cuff, and it'll download in a second flat. It's going to be 4,000 credits, though."

I take out the platinum credit chit and use my omni-tool to reduce the quantity on it to 4,000 exactly, the rest going into a bank account. I'll have to move that money soon. I'll put it back on the chit and then at a later time I'll use an alias to open up my own bank account. I'm positive they'll freeze the assets of the dead guy this omni-tool used to belong to very soon.

He scans the chit and I take it back, returning the funds to it before pocketing it.

He nods with a grin. "Enjoy."

I decide to utilize the programs now, plugging them into a tiny slot in my omni-tool. A red light turns green after just a second after each use."

"Also I noticed that you don't have the earpiece." He produces a slender device that vaguely resembles that old blue tooth communicator that I used to use. This one however doesn't have a microphone attached to it. "I'll sell you this high end one at a discount, just 80 creds. Also I have several options for a microphone. I can have a small attachment for your earpiece which is the most common one…"

"Do you have a throat mic?" I ask, pantomiming touching my neck.

He nods and grins. "Into that tactical shit, huh? Yeah I have a really nice one by Ariotec same as your earpiece so it'll link up no problem. I'll show you how to calibrate these to your omni-tool."

I pay for the new tech and put the earpiece on over my ear. It's black, small, comfortable and slender enough that it's barely noticeable, just a few small blue lights that indicate it's on. The most obvious part of it is a thin black protrusion that extends towards my temple slightly with a pale blue light at the end. The throat mic matches the ear piece and it is also barely noticeable, just a pair of small blue lights just above my clavicle.

"The earpiece can also sense your neurological activity and it uses your omni-tool to compute that data at light speed. Basically it predicts what you want based on your neurological activity and tells your omni-tool that information. So it'll be easier to use your _games _once your earpiece and omni-tool have collected enough data on you."

I nod, impressed. "That's kick ass."

"Right?" He says with a grin. "Anyways, your cuff, earpiece and throat mic can actually work together to detect your vitals as well, as if your tech could be any cooler."

"Technology these days." I say, more to myself than him. "Thanks buddy. I'll probably come around soon. What was your name?"

"My name is pretty hard for humans to get right but it does apparently starts with a sound coequally similar to one of your alphabet so I usually have humans just call me B."

"B?" I ask.

He shrugs and nods. "Yeah. It's actually Bahrecotoremferacmarahaverajahmadin, but B is just easier to say."

"I'm not even going to try." I respond shaking my head. "That must be a bitch to put down in writing."

He shrugs. "Well shit I didn't pick it."

I laugh. "See you around B. The name's Jack, by the way."

"Got it, boss." He responds with a grin. "See ya."

I continue on, moving through the crowds. I notice an alien I've never seen before now and I get close and scan him with my omni-tool as I pass by the insect-like creature.

_Reading…_

_Entry: Citadel_

_Sub Entry: Keepers_

_The Keepers are a mysterious insectoid species that have existed on the Citadel since before it was discovered by the Asari. Initially, the Asari believed that the Keepers were its inhabitants and creators, based on their observations of the meticulous maintenance they perform on it. Upon their initial attempts to make contact however, they would not respond, simply continuing their single minded goal of maintaining the Citadel. Eventually, the Keepers were deemed harmless by the Council and eventually ignored all together as they perform direly needed maintenance on the Citadel itself. Nobody knows where the Keepers come from or where they go when they aren't around or who or what directs them to tasks. Initially the Asari attempted to capture the Keepers for scientific study. However it was soon discovered that capturing a Keeper to study them is impossible due to a biological defense mechanism that causes them to quite literally melt when they believe to be in danger of capture. It is believed the Keepers are created deep within the unreachable bowels of the Citadel and are non-sentient, simply programmed to perform tasks that the Citadel needs to be done. The Council has banned any actions taken to disturb or disrupt the Keepers from their work and any interaction with them whatsoever is both illegal and ill-advised. _

Well that's suspicious.

I frown when I recall something I read in that entry. The Citadel was discovered by the Asari? Where exactly is this Citadel?

I bump into something and stumble back, rubbing my nose, looking at the glass wall I ran into. My eyes widen as I gaze through it. In the distance beyond lavender and blue clouds is a bright purple mass of hot cosmic gasses. A nebula?

But…

I open the main entry for the Citadel and speed read. Holy fuck. I'm not on Earth at all. This is a space station, billions of light-years away from Earth…

Well… I think it's safe to say that my attempt at time travel did _not _work like I thought it would.

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**Author's Note:**

Alright so a few important points to mention about this story now that we're a little into it: This story takes place a LONG time before the events of the first Mass Effect Game. We're not talking a couple of years we're talking a few decades. That being said, this story will be MOSTLY original characters. For the sake of familiarity, I have included more than a couple familiar faces in places where it's appropriate. Cameos, that sort of thing. Those will come when they come. This story is not being updated as it's being written. The chapters have been pre-written and are proofread. At this point, I am about 12 chapters ahead of you. All feedback is appreciated as long as it actually is feedback. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review and have a wonderful day.

~love, ComaKill


	3. Chapter 3: Start Over

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUDGEMENT**

**BOOK ONE**

**THE WARDEN**

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**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 3**

**START OVER**

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**I'm at the end of the Aroch Ward on a city in space: The Citadel. The date today is the 4****th**** of January and the year is 2174. I remember 2174… It was nothing like this. I'm not just in another time. I'm in another timeline entirely.**

I don't really gape out at the expanses of space before me. To others it'd look like I'm glaring at it, but at this moment, I'm deep in thought.

This is absolutely astounding. I used to think to myself, every time a new year would roll around: What's going to surprise me this year? At some point, nothing surprised me, nothing was new. There were some nights when traveling or camping outdoors that I'd look up at the night sky and think about how that was one place I'd never been: Space. I thought about how the problems I faced down on Earth be they trivial or extreme, didn't exist nor matter up there.

I turn around and start heading back the way I came, not knowing where I'm going, nor knowing what I'm doing. I'm just walking.

I should find somewhere to live. I have enough money for me to find a place to live, I think. I hope so, at least. I soon find myself back in the city streets, moving through the various stores.

"Excuse me!" I hear some shouting over the noise of the crowds.

I continue walking.

"In the green jacket!" I hear again and turn my head slightly and look in the direction of the person. I see two people in blue, black and silver uniforms, one a turian and the other a human, pushing their way through the crowd towards me. Law enforcement. A witness from the clubs?

I can't risk incarceration. Nor processing. In a place as technologically advanced as this they have records of people.

Got to run this time. Next time I'll stick around to answer their questions. I pull my face deeper into my hood and start sprinting away in the opposite direction, down a particularly filthy alleyway. I reach a 'T' shaped intersection and look both direction they both lead deeper into the maze of back alleys but which way?

I look over my shoulder and spot the two officers bursting out of the thick crowd and starting to race down the alley at me. I decide to go right, sprinting, taking the first left I come to. No luck, they saw me make the turn.

"Stop!" They shout. "Freeze!"

Why waste their breath? I'm already running and it's obvious I'm going to keep running. I make several more turns, toppling trash cans and whatever debris I can to impede their progress, no such luck. They're very fast. Impressively fast. Not many people could keep up with me. They'll catch me the second I hit a dead end.

I skid to a halt passing another turn and choose to take it instead of staying straight. I take another right as it is my only option and then another left. I keep running and take a left but find a dead end. Fuck! There has to be something here. Somewhere to hide. I check for any windows or anything above. Nothing. There is a drain nearby with water from open pipes attached to the wall draining into it. I try the drain and find it's too solid.

I turn around seeing shadows approach. They're almost on me. There is a low alcove to my right, their left when they'll come down this way. There are several large boxes and containers there in the alcove I move a few out of the way and crawl into the low alcove, pulling the heavy metal containers back into place just as I hear their footfalls rounding the corner.

"Where'd he go?!" I hear one of them breathlessly ask.

"He's here somewhere." The other one, equally breathless says. "Start looking."

I'm breathing just as hard as they are. I try to quiet my labored breaths but the damp hot air and small space is making it quite difficult to breathe. I can just see through the cracks in the boxes that they're searching for me high and low, tipping trash cans, ripping open bags of garbage to find me.

I move back further and feel a wall behind me. I start to shuffle to my right deeper into the alcove to try and make it to the far wall side, nearer to the way back so that I can maybe still have a chance to escape. As I sidle along, I feel my heel, also pressed against the wall as I squat deeply to try and fit in this tight space, get caught in a niche.

I move past it but drop my hand to feel in the niche. It's a small handle with a latch inside. I press it and feel a rush of cool air hit my back as a large hatch about six feet across opens behind me, folding up and inside similar to those pre-war garage doors.

I look back at the officers. The turian one shushes the other.

"Did you hear that?" He asks, looking in my direction. He can't see me but I decide that this may be my ticket out of here.

I lift open the hatch the rest of the way and ease my way into the inky blackness. In here it's very cool, almost too cold. And there is constant air flow. The ground is very slippery and it slopes dramatically enough that the second I step inside my feet shoot out from underneath me and I hang from the edge of the chute I crawled into. I reach for the handle on the inside of the hatch and watch as the turian and human officers start tearing the boxes out of the alcove, looking for me.

Here goes nothing.

I let go of the edge and hold onto just the handle of the hatchway as my body weight makes it swing shut. I let go instantly and slide off into the darkness. I notice that the slope of the chute steepens gradually and I start moving fast, very fast. So fast that I'm guaranteed to die if I hit anything going this speed. I try to slow myself by spreading my arms and legs and digging my heels, palms, elbows and buttocks into the chute but the frictionless slick surface doesn't provide any traction and I don't slow even a bit. It also doesn't help that I can't see a damn thing.

The chute takes me in multiple different directions, very wide turns sending me flying through the darkness as gravity and an apparently greased surface take me to speeds that I didn't think I could reach on a slide. After what seems about at least ten minutes of continuous sliding, I spot a a dim red light in the distance, illuminating what looks like a wall or a door. Let's hope the latter. I curl myself into a ball as best I can but a glowing blue opaque screen erupts from the walls head of me and as I pass through it I slow impossibly and I slam into the wall, knocking open the surprisingly light door, followed by several more before I fall out of the chute and back out into the open. I fall maybe ten feet or so before hitting the hard ground, rolling a few times despite the breaks I hit. I cough and grunt as I get up to my hands and knees. I shake off the dizziness that I feel from such an insane ride and get to my feet examining my clothing. The chute felt greased or something but my clothes are both dry and clean, or at least as clean as they were before I started running from the local law.

Next I observe my surroundings.

Huh.

I seem to be in some sort of… warehouse? Or maybe a hanger of some kind? The area I'm in is a gigantic and extremely spacious yard with five or six story high walls surrounding the entire area. The yard has as much square area as about half a dozen football (Soccer to Americans) fields and the space is occupied by two things:

One is a massive building resembling a warehouse or a factory or a hanger, maybe six or seven stories tall. It's dilapidated and clearly old but it's far from collapsing. The main feature of the warehouse is its massive main doors which are as large as the entire wall of the warehouse, leading me to believe it's more of a hanger. I don't think it is due to the fact that it's a really square building.

The other notable feature, are gigantic metal doors that look as if they weigh several thousand tons each. The doors take up the entire western wall of the yard and are arranged directly across from the main doors of the warehouse, even more proof that this place is a hanger or storage facility of some kind.

Other than the warehouse, and the doors, the yard is filled with debris. Garbage, distended metal scraps. It looks sort of like a junk yard but I don't think it is one. High above us, there is a canopy of wide metal mesh, allowing minimal dull greyish light through, held above the walls and high above the warehouse by numerous pylons standing on top of the walls. Through it I can see walkways and ships of all shapes and sizes as well as flying cars in the distance. Beams of light pass through the canopy, lending a nostalgic, somber and mysterious air to this dusty abandoned part of the Citadel, making the entire place appear to be devoid of color, like a black and white film noire. In addition to the melancholic light, the absolutely still air makes the atmosphere glitter here and there as particles of dust hit beams of light. It reminds me of the Ash Forests in former New England. _Leafless grey trees, dead tree limbs reaching out and creating a sad canopy that looks like a cage if you looked straight up at the dark grey sky. The air is dead still, no life for dozens of miles. There are several inches of ash on the ground, with bits of ash floating around in the air. Every step kicks up more ash, chokes you, makes you sick. Despite the ash and the dead trees, the air is very cold, and humid. You breath fogs easily, no matter how cold you are. You can smell the rain in the air, but it hasn't rained in years. Radiation and burning forests increased the density of clouds. This place won't see life for decades._

The walls of the yard look nigh unclimbable. Sheer walls 50 feet high with a canopy overhead and who knows on the other side.

There are however numerous large metal chutes about one story or so above the ground level, built into the walls, just like the one I got launched out of. Leading down from the edges of each chute are rails and at the base of the rails is a large platform with some guard rails on the sides but a ramp to the ground. Maybe for loading gear? And if that wasn't enough there is a gigantic metal door, larger than the warehouse itself that takes up most of the wall opposite the warehouse's main doorway.

What is this place? It seems secure but I won't know that until police officers start flying out of these metal chutes, now will I? For now, I should explore. I start by exploring the yard.

I wander for a while, picking amongst the piles of rubbish finding several interesting things but nothing useful at the moment. It takes me quite a while to walk the entire perimeter of the yard which circumnavigates the warehouse. I decide to examine the massive door next.

I approach it and place a hand on it. It's icy cold and there's fading paint crossing its rough surface that I can't make out. I'm sure that this hasn't been opened in ages. Who knows if it will still even open?

I step away from the door taking my hand off of it and staring up, my neck craning to try and see the top. I turn around. Let's check out this warehouse.

I walk towards the massive main door of the warehouse and spot a small door on it made for one person to come and go.

I walk towards it placing my hand on its dirty surface. I push and find that the door is locked. I examine the electronic keypad next to the lock, long destroyed and even gutted of electrical components. Dust collects inside it and the keys pad itself is hanging off the panel. I touch it and it falls off the wall. No help there. I take a step back and kick the door near the handle. It makes a huge noise that reverberates in the quiet space. I look up at the hustle and bustle far above. It's doubtful that they can hear me. I give my leg a shake, having hurt it slightly from kicking a metal door.

I pull back and slam my foot into the door once again. It swings open, the worn lock breaking into bits. I nearly fall through from the force of my kick, catching myself on the doorway. I see no danger beyond however, so I step through and marvel at the dimensions of the massive building. It's eerily quiet in here and it's cleaner than the yard. The dust in the air is thicker and the air is stale. I can tell nobody has breathed this air in ages. There are a few large containers the size of conex boxes except silver in color and slightly larger overall. One of them hangs open. There are also several more floors above spaced evenly apart and varying in size. For the most part however, the warehouse is dominated by this single massive room which takes up most of the building. Who knows what was meant to be stored in here? I look directly above. There seems to be a room, maybe an office above the main door. Maybe it's a control room. There is a walkway that's barely holding together leading from the office to the top floor. Maybe for later. I'm going to look around this floor for a bit first.

I walk over to the conex box with its door hanging open slightly. I peer inside, my hand in my pocket on my gun in case something jumps out at me but nothing does. I look at my omni-tool taking a second as I fiddle with it but I activate the flashlight that B told me about.

I pull the door open and move to open the other one, shining the light inside. I see several boxes deeper inside and I move into the conex box to examine them. I step up to one of them and brush a heavy layer of dust off of the surface. Alien writing is written across the top. I scan it with my omni-tool and it automatically translates.

_Outdated Asari Dialect Detected. Translation:_

_Warning: Explosive Content_

I raise my eyebrows at the box and choose to step away for now. For all I know, the explosive could've become volatile in its age, or even inert. There's no way of knowing. I step out of the box and close it but don't latch the doors shut. I move to examine the other two conex boxes but choose to leave them for now, noticing that they're closed, latched and appear locked even if the keypads on the door don't appear to have power.

I look around the building. I should go check out that room above the door. I move to the back of the massive room and find a stairwell and head up. I think I saw an elevator tucked away into a corner in the back of the room near the stairwell, but I'm positive it's not working. Besides, I never minded stairs before. I've only ever used two operating elevators in my life ever and I have to say, I didn't enjoy being confined in them.

I continue upstairs, to the top floor, taking a breather once I get up there, dropping my backpack on the ground near the stairs. I stretch and press my hand against my lower back. I move out and stand near the edge, not putting my weight on the railing because who knows how sturdy that is. I'm really high up. This is a little scary. I've never been one for heights. Falling to my death was always a disturbing notion for me. I have a list of my least appreciated deaths. Falling is in the top ten.

If you're curious, here's my top ten least appreciated deaths:

Starvation (Most unpleasant)

Burned Alive (Close second to most painful)

Dehydration (To include heat related injuries like heat stroke)

Stupid deaths (Accidental deaths like tripping and braining myself or like eating bad plants, brain aneurisms, things beyond my control, etc.)

Old Age (Will never die of old age again)

Drowning (Potentially endless dying)

Eaten Alive (Who knows where I'll end up?)

Falling to my death (Might not die immediately and just lie there mostly paralyzed for a while one of these other deaths occur)

Suffocation (To include strangulation)

Bleeding out (Difficult for me to bleed out, takes a long time)

Anyways… Who am I talking to?

Shaking my head at myself, I head over to the walkway, which looks sturdy in design but I'm wary of it at the moment. I cautiously step up to it and step onto it. It seems fine, albeit creaky. The creaking makes me sketchy of the walkway's stability but I've walked down my share of creaky walkways and I can say with some confidence that this one is better off than most.

I'll live to regret those words. Not like that matters to me or anything.

I traverse the walkway slowly, pausing every now and then when it creaks more loudly, taking note of where the walkway makes the most noise. I do get to the office without incident however. I test the door finding it's locked as well. I frown at my misfortune, suddenly feeling exposed here on this noisy walkway. I take a step back and kick the door, breaking it on the first try. I step through and examine the room. The air is stale and the room looks like people were still working in it if not for the heavy sheaf of dust coating everything to the point that it floats in the still old air, thick like snow.

I pick up a small electronic device that looks like a picture frame with some glass in it and part of it taken up by a keyboard. The thing falls apart in my hands and I chuckle at how that must have looked.

The room is shaped like a long rectangle and it appears to have doubled as both an office and control room. On the wall to my left is a broken spider-webbed window that overlooks the entire warehouse and on my right is another window made of sturdier stuff apparently as it isn't broken, just scratched, old and dirty. Beneath the window is a console that I assume is the control panel. Seeing as how the office sits on top of the warehouse's main entrance _and _the control window faces the massive doorway, I'm assuming that means that this console controls both the warehouse entrance and that massive door. Until it has power, however, that won't happen.

I step away from the console after randomly pressing a few buttons, obviously nothing happening. I walk up to a desk in the corner with a large cushioned chair. I ease myself into it, dust shooting out of the cushion. I ignore the dust, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I'm tired… and hungry.

**##########################################################**

**. . . . . . . . .**

I wake with a start, the light pouring in through the control window is different. I look at my omni-tool looking at the time. It's 1820 right now, the next day. I mean it was late when I got here yesterday but I don't know what time specifically. Goddamn, I was tired, wasn't I? I take a deep breath and yawn, stretching. Gosh, I haven't slept that long in… I can't even remember. I barely remember when I slept last. It was when I camped out with Lucas Young the night before we arrived at the meta-human bunker, just outside of the San Diego ruins. That seems like weeks ago.

I rest my elbows on the desk, resting my head in my hand letting the other fall to the desk's surface, my fingers combing into my overgrown hair.

I push my long hair back, finger combing it an unnecessary amount of times. When was the last time I got my hair cut? Must have been sometime in 2281 I guess, more than two years ago. Which is funny because that is actually a century in the future in this timeline yet the tech in 2281 was 10 times worse.

I chuckle as I realize that I was alive and mopey about how I couldn't even age myself to death in 2174. Now it's an alternate year and or an alternate chronological tangent I've stumbled on. I uncover my face and look at the small metal frame with a keyboard in front of me. I scan in with my omni-tool.

_Datapad inactive._

"No shit." I mumble. "How the fuck do I turn it on?"

Silence responds. Fuck me. I stopped talking to inanimate objects two decades ago and was proud of it. Don't fall of the wagon, Jack.

I sigh and gingerly pick up the 'datapad.' I rotate it gently and examine it before deciding to just press one of the keys on it gently. The datapad flickers to life, the cracked glass glowing orange with black text appearing on it. I read it with moderate difficulty. Partly due to the wear and tear of the old datapad but also due to corruption of the data but thankfully my omni-tool is smart enough to automatically translate the text.

_Ancient Asari Dialect detected. _My omni-tool says with a robotic voice. _Translating audio diary._

Audio, eh? Some garbled static is produced from my omni-tool but soon after the voice of a woman, sounding tired but confident speaks:

"… _going well. We're currently retrofitting some of the cargo ships to… putting together. We… don't have… to… making our job more complicated. We managed to find this place and… seems… old ship yard that's been here for… last… 10,000 years… underneath hanger… makes sense. We… hub for… chutes lead to every Ward and since it's on the Presidium itself… location. We're staging supplies and distributing… for construction of… and remodeling of… on lower Wards. Expansion is possible in the future thanks to this place. The chutes lead to every part of the Citadel. We figured out that… 3 chutes per Ward. The chutes use gravity to get here but have… propulsion to send… to… locations. It'll come in handy for centuries to… will…"_

_Data corrupted. _My omni-tool says, it's artificial voice echoing in the eerily silent room strangely.

The recording finishes, but some text follows on my omni-tools holographic screen: Circa-_ 4384 RRN 22.33.4384_

I activate voice command and ask my omni-tool what 4384 RRN and all those numbers mean.

_Refers to the last Asari dynasty. Officially ended after the Citadel Council was formed by the Asari and Salarians. This date refers and roughly translates to the year now historically known as August 25__th__, 579 BCE (Before Council Era), half a millennium before the Council was officially created by the Asari and Salarians. This date in Council history is somewhat incongruent, as according to Asari Historical records, official publication of the discovery of the Citadel was not until the human date known as November 17, 563 BCE. This log was entered 16 years before the Asari officially announced their discovery of the Citadel. This date correlates handsomely to human timeline, falling on a similar date in human historical records. This log was entered 2,753 years ago. Imbedded are also uncorrupted coordinates for this location which do not exist in modern Citadel Maps. Log this location?_

This building is two, nearly three millennia old?

No fucking way.

And this yard is, according to the log at least 10,000 years old.

And by the way it sounds, this place was never meant to be found. If the Asari didn't officially announce that they found the Citadel until 563 BCE then they covered up this place, the Citadel, for 16 years. Why?

But goddamn do the Asari know how to put a building together. This is a good place. I'll keep it. But I can't stay here yet. It's not livable. I'll need to find a way to restore power, plumbing and gather supplies for this place. In the meantime, I'll put myself up in a hotel and work to get this place in a livable condition.

I have my omni-tool log the location of the warehouse in my personal locations log before exiting the office, hurrying across the walkway back to my backpack. I take my things and head downstairs to the main floor.

Once I'm on the main floor, I work on a way to find a way out of here. I approach one of the chutes and use the rail that raises the lift as a makeshift ladder to climb my way up towards the chute itself. Once I reach it I step inside and walk up to the first brake-door.

I look for a way to open it but simply push on it then try pulling. Neither work. I use my omni-tool light to examine the shoot and find a button beneath a dull red light. I press it and the brake door slowly opens towards me. I blink and walk inside. The door closes behind me and I face another one. I press the next button and the next door opens and then closes behind me.

What am I trying to accomplish here? I won't be able to climb up the chute. Not in a million years. I hit the last button and step through the final door as it opens and I stare up the chute. But as the last door closes I notice movement around me. I shine my light alarmed and see a ring spinning around me, touching the four walls of the chute. It moves forward and two more follow, me being centered on the 2nd of the three rings. Uh what…

Even my thoughts are cut off as a blue shield erupts from the edges of the rings and at either end engulfing me in a glowing blue cylinder before it begins to move up the chute. I reach out and brace myself against the ring as it begins to gain speed.

A lot of it.

The thing accelerates and accelerates, faster and faster and at some point we're moving so fast up the chute that I lost my grip and fly back, slamming against the shield which holds me inside the cylinder.

Holy FUCK!

I see a light appear above and we move at it at an incredible rate. I realize that we're moving too fast to stop on time and my eyes widen as I realize that I'm going to die shaken to death inside of a tube like a fish. The forward shield suddenly becomes more opaque and the cylinder stops abruptly sending me flying out of my odd means of transportation and through the hatch, the blue shield slowing me substantially and unharmed as I fly through it. Despite being slowed by the barrier as I was on my way down, I collide with several trashcans which help stop me and cushion me from the far wall of the alleyway I fly into.

I topple off of the dented trashcans with a grunt, groaning and stretching my back. Goddamn it I'm too fucking old for this bullshit.

I grunt as I get to my feet, grunting in pain as I stretch my back. I look over to my right at one of the bug janitor men, the Keepers who stares at me with large eyes.

"Don't look at me like that." I say.

It continues to stare.

"I didn't fucking mean to be used as a human wrecking ball, smashing into your nice pile of trashcans which might I say are just a little too full, alright? Keep that in consideration why don't you? Also, were you going to dump that shit down that chute? That's not a fucking garbage chute; it just so happens to lead to my new man cave so lay off." I scold it.

The Keeper stares for a second before beginning to recollect the trash. I sigh. Might as well be talking to a chair. They've got the same number of legs.

I open my omni-tool and log this location before pulling up a map of where I am, I use it to make my way out of the maze of alleyways into the street with still a great number of people bustling about. My omni-tool says I'm on the Zakera Ward right now. This Ward by the looks of it appears to have more humans than the Aroch Ward did. In addition it seems to be more commercial as well. I'm sure there's somewhere I can stay for the night. I use my omni-tool to research hotels nearby and find one just a few blocks away. It doesn't take me long to arrive.

To me it seems like a really nice hotel but my omni-tool says it only has three out of five stars. This would be a five star establishment anywhere in the wastes. I walk up to the receptionist who smiles at me.

"Hello." He says. "Welcome to the Gamot. Do you have a reservation at our hotel?"

I shake my head. "No but I'd like a room please. Any is fine."

"Alright, let me see here…" He types into his computer. "Okay we do have a deluxe room available and it's pay by the day. The rate is 1,670 credits a day."

"That sounds kind of expensive." I comment, taking my credit chit out of my pocket nonetheless.

He nods. "Well, it's a pretty good deal for a deluxe room on the Citadel. If your were trying to get a room on the Presidium it'd cost you at least ten times as much."

"That's fucking stupid." I say blatantly. "Who the fuck would spend that much money on such a trivial thing. I'd sleep outside if I could."

"Right…" The receptionist mumbles looking at me strangely before handing my chit back. "I'll need a name for our registry."

"Paul Carttrel. That's Cart as in a shopping cart and trel, T, R, E, L." I say, using one of my fake names.

"Ok, Mr. Carttrel, your room is on the third floor, number 381." He hands me a key card and smiles at me as I leave.

I walk back to him quickly. "Could you recommend a nice restaurant, bar and clothing store nearby, if it's not too much trouble?"

"Looking to enjoy yourself on your vacation are we?" He smiles. "Well there is a great shopping scene at New Trafalgar. They have great restaurants and clothing stores although it's a bit expensive. And Vibes is a club near New Trafalgar. It's the biggest club on the Zakera Ward so it'll be a good scene."

"Thanks for the information." I say, heading over to the elevator, riding it up to the third floor. I find my room and head inside, locking the deadbolt as well. I take off my backpack and open it, removing one of the revolvers from it as well as bringing my still semi damp clothing into the bathroom. I hang them up in the shower to dry.

I head back into my room, looking at my revolver in one hand and Catherine in the other. I sigh and think. Catherine is grossly outdated, it barely scratched the krogan Laroke at the Corner Club yesterday. But I don't know how to use this thing. I sigh and put the revolver back in the backpack, shoving the backpack under my bed. Alright.

I exit the hotel, using my omni-tool to direct me to New Trafalgar. It doesn't take me long to get there and when I do I'm astounded by the place. Up just a few sets of steps there is a massive plaza with stores, restaurants and recreational centers. In the middle of the plaza is a pair of massive fountains as well as a gigantic tower, jutting out towards the sky. I've never been to Trafalgar square personally but I imagine that this is a replica of some kind.

I walk up the steps and use my omni-tool, looking over the long list of establishments in this huge shopping center. Seeing as how I'm dying of hunger I choose a steak house. Hopefully it's good.

I head over to the steak house, letting the maître d' lead me to a table situated outside the restaurant itself. The smell wafting out of the restaurant is absolutely intoxicating. I take my seat and a well-dressed waiter comes to take my drink order.

"What would you suggest?" I ask him.

He tells me that the cabernet sauvignons on the wine list go well with the steaks so I order a glass of one of the more expensive wines. Before he leaves I tell him that I'd also like to order now, asking what he'd recommend for a steak.

On his recommendation I order a 16 ounce bone-in rib eye steak imported from earth earlier today. I wait patiently as he leaves but returns with a wine glass and pours me a glass of red wine. I take a small sip and recoil at the taste. That's absolutely superb! I've never tasted a wine like this! The wines I had back on earth in the wastes tasted terrible like all alcohol. I thought that was normal! This is just… so strange.

The truth I knew turns out to be all wrong. I sigh deeply, taking another sip of the wine only to shake my head in earnest. A few moments late I'm shaken out of my stupor as the waiter lays a plate with a steak running juices out onto the plate. The smell that strikes my nostrils from the steak sends shivers down my spine.

"Please cut into it to ensure it is cooked properly, sir." The waiter asks, politely.

I do so finding a pink center. My mouth must be producing rivers of saliva

"If you'd like to taste it." The waiter suggests. "If it's not to your satisfaction I'd be happy to take it back to the kitchen.

I cut off a bit, take a deep inhale of it through my nose and place it in my mouth. The char and spices it was rubbed with send shockwaves through my mouth and I slowly bite down, juices from the meat pouring out of the cut.

"Christ…" I say, my voice cracking emotion overwhelming me. "What is this?"

"Is… Is something wrong sir?" He asks. "Is it bad?"

"No it's fucking amazing!" I exclaim, putting another cut in my mouth. "What is it?"

"It's… it's a rib eye steak like you ordered." He responds, sounding confused.

"Yeah but what's the steak made of?" I ask, looking at him. I take a drink of the wine and shake my head. It's even better with the wine!

"It's… it's beef?" He responds, questioning his response.

"Beef… That's from cows?" I ask. "Holy shit. Cows… Fucking cows! Cows taste fantastic! I've never had cow before!"

"Uh. Is that going to be all sir?" He asks.

I hand him my credit chit. "Just charge it now so you don't bother me later. I want to enjoy my steak."

"Er, very well sir." He responds scanning the credit chit.

"Go ahead and take like 100 credits for yourself as a tip." I say, shoving beef in my mouth.

"Sir?" He asks, looking confused.

"You heard me." I say around a mouthful steak.

"Very well, sir." He says, scanning my chit again and placing it on my table. "I appreciate your generosity."

"Bring me another glass and you can leave me alone the rest of the night." I say downing the glass and holding it up to him.

He leaves with it and soon returns. The fresh glass of wine and the steak are soon gone and I lean back in my chair letting out a sigh of satisfaction. Food and drink has never tasted better. 200 years I've eaten the same mutated, irradiated, dirty, disgusting, dry, moldy, rotten, bull shit year after year. It's like I've been blind my whole fucking life. I need to learn more about food as soon as I can. The possibilities running through my mind are baffling.

I get up from my table, taking my credit chit. I leave the restaurant, opening my omni-tool to find a good clothing store, knowing that I need to expand my wardrobe, not to mention that my current set of clothing is filthy from the warehouse.

I decide to try out a clothing boutique that boasts very high ratings. I walk into the boutique and a petite asari with delicate, soft features approaches me. She's very pretty…

As strange as that is.

"Greetings!" She says happily. "Welcome to Demuré. My name is Tileen and I'm one of the consultants here at our boutique."

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Jack." I respond.

"So, Jack. What're you looking for today?" She asks.

"Well, something functional, something that looks nice too. I'm not picky and I concede to your greater wisdom on the subject, but I have simple tastes." I respond.

"Are you planning on any particular occasion soon that you need an outfit for?" She asks.

"Well, I'm planning on going to a club tonight. I suppose it'd be nice to look good for that. And I need a few outfits, for just everyday use." I say. "Remember, functionality and simplicity is important to me."

"It also looks like you're into that retro style, which is _so_ in right now." She comments, looking thoughtful, looking me up and down, and making me kind of uncomfortable. "Let's take you to see what we have and you can decide what you like the best."

She leads me through the store as I select a few pieces of clothing, describing as I go my preferences for clothing and color. After we're finished she has gathered the clothing and tosses them on a counter.

"Here at Demuré we ensure that the clothing we sell to our customers looks best on them and them only." She says. "So I'm going to take your measurements and our machines will alter your clothing to your body specifications, if I may?"

I thought it was odd that she didn't ask for any of my sizes. She scans me and types into her omni-tool. "Alright, your clothing will be ready to go in just a half an hour, and you don't need to pay until you try them on to ensure they fit and that you're satisfied."

"Outstanding." I say. "I think I'm just going to wander around the plaza for a half hour and see what's around."

"Okay!" She says smiling. "I'll see you in a half an hour!"

I exit the boutique and start to wander a little aimlessly, scanning things I find intriguing. I take a seat on a park bench with a sigh, rubbing my thighs which feel a little sore, but I know they won't for long. Only ten minutes have passed however. I sigh and look in front of me at the boutique. It's a hair salon.

Well. I guess I could get a haircut. My hair is terribly over grown, past my shoulders now. I keep it in a ponytail to keep it out of my face but to be honest I might as well cut it to keep it out of the way.

I get up from the bench and enter the hair salon. A human with a massive mohawk looks up at me from his chair. He grins.

"Hey bud." He says, turning his chair towards me. "Come take a seat and I'll give you a cut and a shave."

I take a seat and he turns me to look at me. "Jesus buddy, you've got a lot of stone for me to chisel at, huh? So what're you trying for here?"

"I just want it shorter, otherwise, I trust you to make me look good." I say. He grins at that.

"Oh man, I'm going to take my time with you." He says removing my hair tie and letting my hair fall to my shoulders. "Oh man, you don't know what you're doing to me guy. I can't believe you've got so much hair and beard for me to work with!"

"I want my beard shaved clean." I say. "It gets in the way and gets messy. Otherwise you know what you're doing."

"Awesome." He says. "Let's get started…"

**##########################################################**

**A half an hour of bits of my hair falling out, I'm about to see myself again for the first time in years. As if there was anything new to see.**

"There we go." He says beaming and turning me to the mirror to look at myself. "Not bad if I do say so myself."

I blink at my new appearance. Christ I look like a completely different person.

The first thing he did was pull my hair back into a tight and high pony tail. From there he chopped it off. He then shaved the sides and back of my head down to the scalp, leaving a very high fade. He then trimmed down the hair left on top of my head a bit shorter, keeping the taper made by cutting off my pony tail, so my hair is longest near the front and shortest at the back. He then let my hair just fall back naturally and it sits on top of my head, pushed back. I look pretty good, if I do say so myself.

This I think is the first time I've looked in a mirror in years, but I know very well what I'd be looking at, so what's the point?

I'm 6'2" tall and I look like I ought to be about 215 pounds. (I'm really way heavier but nobody needs to know that.) I'm a very lean individual with exceptional muscle definition. My muscles aren't universally massive, save for my arms and legs which are extremely thick with wiry muscle. My chest is very well defined but not large and my shoulders are broad and I have a nice wide triangular and yet slim shape with a narrow waist and narrow hips. My back muscles are thick and very defined, thanks to all of my acrobatic training. I have an extremely thick neck for such a wiry person which I always thought was strange. My neck is wide enough that the tendons are wider than my jaw which is slender and angular and defined. Thankfully my chin isn't too square which would just make my face look strange or awkward I think. I have fairly thin but well-shaped lips and pronounced jowls. Along with my thoroughly gaunt cheeks, my jowls make me look almost malnourished. My cheekbones are high and sharp and stand out when I smile but otherwise don't stand out much. My eyes are a very light brown and slightly yellowish with dark iris rings. I have thick bushy eyebrows that the hair stylist was kind enough to tame a little bit for me. My nose is tall, wide and straight and my nostrils are narrow against the sides. My nose is also quite flat for something that takes up so much of my face.

The hair that the stylist just cut is naturally very shiny but not oily. When it gets really long it's kind of wavy but now that it's cut it's pretty straight. My hair is bronze colored as well, being such a light brown that it almost classifies as blonde. But if you called it blonde you'd wouldn't be right, unfortunately. Nor would you be right if you said I had brown hair. I'm somewhere in between I guess, but not really dirty blonde. More like brass or bronze colored I suppose. Now that I'm clean shaven you can really see my face. Gosh I can't remember the last time I looked at myself. I look so different even though I've seen this exact same face for 200 years.

I get up from the chair, thanking the stylist thoroughly, paying for the haircut and giving him a generous tip. Not quite as generous as at the restaurant but still pretty good for a 15 credit haircut. Or at least I think it's a good tip. I never really tipped people in the wastes. But I heard it was common practice pre-war. I'm assuming customs and courtesies that were pre-war apply nowadays mostly, but I'm not sure about that to be honest.

I exit the hair salon and make my way expediently back to the boutique. I walk inside and the asari attendant looks at me.

"Hi, welcome to Demuré." She says. "I'm… Oh! Jack, right? Wow… You look completely different."

"Um. Thank you." I respond, sort of awkwardly, not really sure how to respond to the attentions of Asari females. Now that I think about it I've never seen a male asari. They must be rare or something. "Are my clothes ready?"

"Yes they are! They're waiting for you in dressing room three." She says pointing. "Please try them on and let me know if they're to your satisfaction."

I nod and walk into the dressing room, removing my clothes and trying on the various sets of clothes laid out for me.

All of the outfits fit perfectly and look pretty good. I think I might get addicted to this kind of thing. I put my original clothing back on and exit the dressing room with my clothes. I bring them back to Tileen.

"How are they?" She asks.

I nod. "They're great I'll take them."

"Fantastic." She says with a smile. "Let's ring you up here."

I hand her my credit chit and she scans it with her omni-tool. "Excellent. Enjoy."

I nod to her and exit the store, carrying my bags of clothing back to my hotel. It doesn't take me long to arrive back in my room. I lock the door and throw my bags onto my bed. I get down on my hands and knees and check to make sure my backpack is still there. It is, thankfully and I pull it out, placing it on my bed as well.

I walk into the bathroom, turning on the shower. I grin as the water cascades down into the tub and instantly steams with heat. I remember when I got the showers in the meta-human bunker working. That was the best day ever, and that water was freezing. This is outstanding.

I take my old clothes down from the racks and feel them to make sure they're dry which they are. I toss them into my room and remove my clothes for my shower. I throw my clothes into the bedroom as well. I turn down the heat on the shower and step into it. I wince as the hot water hits my skin but I quickly adapt to it. I sigh very loudly.

"Oh my goodness." I exclaim, the water washing away my achiness. "That's bloody outstanding."

I stand there just like that for quite a while, just letting the hot water pour over me before I actually decide to start to wash myself. After a rather lengthy shower, I turn off the taps and step out, the cool air making me shiver. I dry off with one of the nearby white towels and wrap it around my waist. I step out into my room and dig through my things for clean underwear. I find some and put them on, smiling at the feeling. I then choose clothes for the evening, deciding to wear a snugly fitting henley shirt with dark blue sleeves and a grey torso, black heavy pants and black and blue athletic shoes. I empty the pockets of my other clothing, taking my credit chit and putting my omni-tool back on. I stare at Catherine and debate on whether to take her or not but decide not to.

I never leave a room unarmed however. I look at my omni-tool and clench a fist thinking about how I want to stab someone. My omni-blade switches out of my arm like a flip blade, a long very large single edged blade. It would be great as a slashing blade but I'd rather have something a little more versatile.

I start fiddling with the settings and after about half an hour of work I complete my new omni-blade, customized.

I activate it and my singled edged omni-blade that shoots out of the bottom of my fist while a large ring with spikes on it covers the front of my fist, my omni-tool basically creating a knuckle duster knife with a particularly large blade. The blade is single edged and I customized it so the blade can come out of either the top or bottom of my hand, though when using knives I typically use them reversed grip.

Satisfied, I leave my room once again and get directions to the club that the receptionist told me about, Vibes. I head there quickly, and I can hear it before I see it, bass heavy music thudding through my chest.

When I round the corner to it, I look up at it my eyes widening slightly. Holy shit… It's huge!

The club is a tall cylindrical building made mostly out of glass. The entrance is a walkway that stretches into the huge dance floor which surrounds the DJ who stands in a large booth on a pedestal in the middle of the dance floor. The bar curves around the right wall and tables and chairs sit near the bar. In huge neon purple letters across the glass wall above the entrance is the name of the club. The interior of the club pulses with lights along with the beat. There is quite a crowd filling the club and an even flow of people walk inside.

This is… kind of intimidating actually.

I take a deep breath and enter the club, bypassing the dance floor to head to the bar, which is what I'm really here for.

"Hey!" I say to one of the bartenders as I sit at the bar.

He walks over to me. "What'll it be buddy?"

"Whiskey with… you guys don't have meta-cola do you?" I ask.

"What?" He frowns. "We've got coke. You want a Jack and Coke?"

I shrug. "Sure bud, make sure it's cold."

"Will do." The Turian says.

He leaves and I sigh, stretching my back a little as I wait for my drink. It sigh, trying to clear my head, running my fingers through my hair. What the…?

Oh right, I got it cut. It doesn't feel the same when I finger comb it like that. Man. I love doing that. It's what I do when I'm stressed or anything. Gosh, thank goodness I didn't shave it entirely.

The bartender brings me my drink and I hand over my credit chit and he charges it.

I sip my drink. Oh damn. That's damn good. Gosh, if I'm not careful all this great liquor and food is going to screw me up, get me all fat and alcoholic.

I sigh, sipping my drink.

"Um, excuse me?" I feel someone gingerly touch my arm and I look to see a young woman sitting down on the stool next to me. "Hi, sorry to bother you."

Oh goodness. She's very, very attractive. Such a beauty oh goddamn. Gosh she's just flawless…

Oh come off it, Jack. She's wearing makeup, a tight dress and a bra that lifts her boobs! I know you're new to this world and this is all very different but you're not naïve. Let's look at this logically dammit. Just… Break it down.

Her jaw length sable hair frames her heart shaped face contrasting her fair, slightly tallow colored skin tone with a slight off yellow tint to it. She has big almond shaped eyes that I think are dark brown but I can't really tell with this lighting. Her nose is sort of like mine in the sense that it's tall wide and straight with narrow nostrils but flat. Her high prominent cheekbones blend into her cheeks a bit but I can tell they get more pronounced when she smiles. She has a somewhat wide mouth with, I guess you could say rectangular lips but that wouldn't really be the right phrasing. He upper lip curves up pleasantly and her lower lip is thinner, longer and a bit squarer. I don't think I've ever seen lips like that, not in 200 years. The most notable feature I notice though is the freckles over her nose and cheeks. Even with makeup on I can see them clearly.

She's rather petite, narrow shoulders, long legs, and a thin waist. Her breasts aren't big, that I can tell now, probably no bigger than Cs, if it's a really nice bra then Bs. Jack… You're staring. Stop staring, Jack. I scratch the back of my head to sort of try to slyly check her out. That's when I notice the way her thighs thicken when she shifts her weight and based on the angle… I look at her hips. Goodness they're so wide for such a small thing.

Stop. Staring. I clear my throat awkwardly and take a sip of my drink. I run a hand through my hair nervously and look at her.

"Uh, hi." I say, clearing my throat slightly. "You're really not bothering me at all. Really."

"Really?" She asks and smiles, giggling a bit.

I realize after a bit that she's teasing me. "Uh yeah. Really."

There's a small uncomfortable pause and I try to think of something but she speaks first. "I'm… really sorry to bother you, I am. My friend got me to come talk to you."

"Your friend?" I ask.

She nods and looks over her shoulder. I look in the same direction and see a girl, red haired, more conventionally attractive sitting at a table looking in our direction.

The girl I'm talking to turns back to me and looks down, back up and then back down at her lap. Shy. I'm faring no better to be honest. In 200 years, you can assume that I've been with my fair share of women and then some.

I'll be honest, I've been with a fair number but that particular number is comparable to a normal human male's. The only reason my number compares to a normal male's number is because I can't die. If I could die… Well then in that case I'd have been with no women seeing as how I died the first time around at age 23. But let's say I lived a full life, that number probably would be something like one or two. Maybe three. That third being a prostitute of some kind when I was on a drunken binge.

That particular case did happen by the way.

Yes, there is something I'm bad at. I'm great with a gun, I know my way around an energy weapon, I am very well read (Even for someone who grew up in a world without books), I can fight hand to hand very well or with melee weapons it makes no difference to me, I can rig most forms of explosive charges and disarm nuclear weapons, I can make my way through a locked down military facility with a hairpin and a tanto point knife, if that military base has security systems I can sneak by them without disturbing a speck of dust or hack them to my own advantage, I can field dress a wound better than trained military medics ever could as well as perform minor surgeries, I can talk my way through a fight as well as I can fight my way through it, I've convinced casinos to let me tweak the exchange rate for money before, and I once jury rigged a gun together using bits of guns that happened to be the same caliber but otherwise weren't similar at all.

I'm very strong, I'm very fast, I can run far, I know how people tick, I'm intelligent and… well I'm not really lucky.

But if there's one thing that I can't do, it's talk to the opposite gender in an attempt to, for lack of a better phrase, plough the shit out of them.

I smile at the girl in front of me. "Well, I guess it's lucky for me that she made you come talk to me."

"Why's that?" She asks.

"Well, otherwise I'd probably sit here alone and drink the night away." I say with a sigh.

She frowns. "Why not go dance? This is a club after all."

I feel my face get a little hot and I look at my knees. "Uh, yeah I'm not really good at dancing."

Alright there's two things I suck at: Dancing and picking up chicks. Well. My future in this universe is starting to look lonelier and lonelier the more I discover my flaws directly correlate to this world's dating standards.

"That's ok." She says with a kind smile. "Not many people are. To be honest, I'm not really a fan of this kind of place either."

"But you can dance." I say.

She shrugs. "I'm… I'm okay I guess. I… Well I dance ballet, I don't really like to dance in these clubs."

"Ballet?" I ask with a frown. "What is that? I've read it in books but I don't specifically know what it is."

"You don't know what ballet is?" She asks looking baffled. "What rock have you been living under?"

"I've lived under more than a few rocks but I'm new to the Citadel and I'm thinking about taking up a more permanent residence here." I say.

"Really?" She asks. "That's great! The Citadel is a fantastic place to live."

"From what I've seen it seems pretty great." I say. Though anything is an improvement from the wastes.

She nods. "How long have you been here?"

"Like… Two days." I say, looking at my knees for a second again.

"Wow you're… like brand new here aren't you?" She asks.

I shrug and run a hand through my hair. "I guess. And so far I've received a fairly warm welcome."

"Why shouldn't you?" She asks rhetorically. "I mean… Goddamn you're handsome."

"Oh, no I'm not." I say, bashfully. "I'm just a guy. I'm really nothing special."

"Are you kidding?" She asks sarcastically. "Just… Goddamn just look at you."

I clear my throat awkwardly. "Uh, thanks a lot. That's… Um. It means a lot to me, I guess. I'm sorry but I never really ever thought my appearance really mattered that much."

She looks me in confusion. "You're strange. You know that?"

"Yes, I do." I say with a slight chuckle. "I'm a little weird."

She shrugs. "Weird is good sometimes. So uh, why'd you come to this club if you were just going to drink? You could've gone to any bar. I'm not complaining though. You know I got to talk to you so…"

I smile and feel my face get hot again as I look down. I clear my throat. "Um, yeah well, I'm so new to the Citadel that I asked the hotel receptionist where there was a good bar and I guess to him that meant club. He suggested this place. I mean it's pretty cool, don't get me wrong."

She shrugs. "It's ok I guess. Say listen, do you want to go someplace, maybe a little quieter and talk?"

I smile and nod, shyly. "Uh, yeah totally that'd be great."

She smiles very wide. "Really? Awesome! Um, there's this great café just a few blocks away, we can go there and chat."

"Okay." I nod with a smile and get up from my stool. "Um, shall we?"

She nods and gets up from her bar stool, supporting herself on my shoulder to ease herself down.

"Gosh." She mumbles touching my arm. "Your arms are gargantuan."

"Gargantuan has a pretty negative connotation." I comment.

She gives me a look. "I bet you're like a genius huh? Do you play any instruments?"

"Violin, actually, this old lady taught me way back in the day." I reply as she places her hand on my forearm and leads me towards her friend's table.

"I'm just going to grab my purse and we can go." She says leading me to the table. "Abby, this is… Whoa! I didn't even ask you your name! And you don't even know mine. Wow you're easy aren't you big fella?"

"Ouch." I respond. "My name's Jack."

"Emily. But I prefer Emma." She says.

"That's a very unique name." I comment.

"Well, Jack." Abby, Emma's friend says. "Like Emma said, I'm Abby. It's a pleasure to meet you. You don't know how hard it is to get Emma to go anywhere and let loose a little. I always tell her that she can meet real good looking guys at these clubs."

"Aren't I lucky that this one isn't a complete sleeze-ball?" She asks laughing and clutching my forearm.

"You so are." Abby says. "I wish I'd seen him first."

"Ha ha, very funny, Abs. Anyways, Jack and I are going to go to Café D'Avons. Are you alright on your own?" Emma asks, sounding legitimately concerned.

"Emma, baby, please." Abby scoffs. "I come here three times a week alone and I'm always okay. Don't worry about me, go have fun."

"Okay." Emma says, sounding intentionally hesitant. "Be safe, babe. Jack, shall we go?"

I nod and then wave to Abby as we leave. "It was nice meeting you."

The walk is quiet for a little while so I decide to start the conversation. "So, you seemed concerned that your friend was going to be alone for the night."

"Yeah, the Citadel has had an increase of muggings recently and C-Sec is having a hard time curbing them." Emma says. "I'm glad you're here though. You're big, hopefully that's enough. The café is right around the corner here."

We walk together to the café and walk inside.

"What would you like?" I ask as we approach the counter.

"Um, I'm going to have a vanilla cappuccino please." She says, more to the barista over me.

The barista looks at me as I blink at the menu. "Er… What's your favorite?"

The barista looks confused but smiles anyways. "How about the café au lait? We're famous for it on Zakera."

"That sounds nice." I say.

The coffee only takes a few moments to come and we take our drinks to an empty table. The whole place is pretty vacant, only a few others sitting around, sipping steaming coffee.

My drink is significantly larger than Emma's is. I take a sip after I sit down. Wow. That's weird. Tastes better than the stuff I could scrounge together in the wastes, but I guess I'm not much of a coffee person.

"So, where are you from?" She asks.

"Earth." I respond. "I've lived all over the place actually, London, Marseilles, Seoul, Moscow, Singapore, Budapest, Berlin, Vancouver, Seattle, and most recently San Diego. That's only naming a few."

"Wow, you've been around." She says sounding impressed.

I shrug. "There still is a lot of things I haven't seen. It's my first time off planet."

"What do you do?" She asks. "You must make a lot of money to be able to travel like that."

"I'm… I'm in the business of administration of justice." I respond. "I stay busy."

"Interesting." She says.

"How about you?" I ask. "What do you do?"

She clears her throat. "Um. It's really not interesting at all."

"I'd still like to know." I say.

"I'm… I'm a waitress." She says.

"That's awesome." I say. "How long have you lived on the Citadel?"

"About five years now." She says. "I was born in the colonies. I've never been to Earth."

"You should try to go sometime." I say, thinking about how I should go back to Earth and revisit all of the places I'd been. "It's worth the trip."

"I would love to but it's so expensive. I'm barely getting by as it is." She responds. "I've been working almost non-stop. Abby practically had to drag me to the club tonight but admittedly I needed to unwind."

"I'm glad you did." I say bashfully. "I don't know anybody here so it's nice to meet somebody so friendly."

"Thanks…" She sighs. "Listen it's really late, I ought to be getting home, but I'd love for us to do this again sometime. Can I… Can I maybe get your number?"

"Absolutely!" I exclaim a bit too excitedly maybe.

I open my omni-tool and hold it out to her for her to type in her phone number.

"Just send me a message later on so I can have your number." She says, standing.

"D-Do you need me to walk you home?" I ask, standing as well.

She looks thoughtful but shakes her head. "No I'm alright."

"Okay well… I… I had a great time tonight." I say, running a hand through my hair.

"Me too." She says. "I'll… I'll see you around?

"Absolutely." I say and she leaves smiling at me before exiting the café.

I sit back down, sipping my drink slowly. That was nice. She was just as nervous and awkward as I was so I guess I'm not hopeless and I got her number so that's good. Back to my hotel room now I guess.

I walk back to my hotel room, needing my omni-tool to help direct me there. Thankfully the hour is late and the people I see are few and far between. I pass an alley and I see somebody moving in my direction slowly. I glance at them and see the person is a human guy with a hooded jacket, his hands in his pockets. I keep walking. I notice that he's following me.

Goddammit.

Up ahead out of an alley way, I see another person step out of the alley, this one is a krogan. That's what I get for leaving home unarmed. The krogan stands in my path, so I cross to the other side of the street. But, lo and behold, yet another mugger steps out of an alley way, this one a turian, cigarette in his hand. He pitches it and approaches me.

The krogan and human approach me as well. I'm surrounded on three sides.

"Late night, friend?" The human asks. I look at him over my shoulder.

I sigh through my nose and take my credit chit out of my pocket, holding it up for them to take if they want. I'll kill them, but I need an opening here first.

"We're not here for money, guy." The turian says, taking a gun out of his pocket.

I put the credit chit back in my pocket. "What do you want?"

"Dex was our boss's son. We've got guys who said a long haired guy with a beard was the one who killed him. Security cameras confirm that." The human explains. "And wouldn't it be our luck that we had a guy getting a haircut at the same time as you?"

Fucking hell. "This seems like a stupid reason to come after me. Who's your boss?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" The turian says as the group closes in on me.

"It won't matter in a second will it?" I say.

The human laughs. "Down to earth kind of guy. I like that. The Keyzer Cartel sends its regards."

I hear the human take a sharp intake of breath and I spin around as he lunges at me with a machete-like weapon. I activate my omni-blade and lunge at him. He manages to avoid my counter attack but the blade slices into his arm, cutting almost down to the bone. He yelps and backs off, falling back. I hear a gun retort and feel a round rip into my neck. The krogan charges me and rams his machete-like blade through my chest. I feel my lung get pierced as blood splashes out of my neck. Aw man. This was a brand new shirt.

I slash at the krogan's leg, cutting deep into his thigh with my omni-blade. The krogan grunts in pain, stumbling back.

"What the fuck?!" The krogan roars. "Just fucking die!"

The krogan picks up the human's machete and hacks it into my shoulder, deep. I grunt and grab his wrist.

I see his eyes go wide as he tries to free his arm from my grasp, realizing what I'm about to do. I slash upwards with my omni-blade severing his arm.

He howls and falls back and the turian opens fire on me. He fires seven times the first bunch hit me center mass and a few hit my legs and arms. I fall to the ground and shiver as my head starts feeling really hot. Odd. Usually I'm more bullet proof than this. Maybe guns are more powerful. And that krogan had some strength, explaining why he was able to stab the machetes into me.

First death in a new world was from a bunch of gangsters. How embarrassing.

**##########################################################**

**The next morning at Emma's Apartment, Emma shifts in her ending slumber.**

Emma jolts awake as her omni-tool beeps from her nightstand repeatedly from a call. She looks at the time as she puts the earpiece in her ear. It's 7:32. Ugh, only 6 hours of sleep last night.

"Hello?" She asks, answering the call, hoping it's from the guy she met last night.

"Hey, it's Abby." Abby says. "How'd things go last night?"

"Fine." Emma responds. "We just went and got coffee and talked for a bit, but it was so late that we cut it short and went home."

"Did he walk you home?" Abby asks.

"No, but he offered." Emma responds, getting up from bed.

"Emma! You know that crime is on the rise because of C-Sec budget cuts!" Abby exclaims. "You should've let him walk you home!"

"I can take care of myself, Abby." Emma snaps back. "Besides, you went home alone last night."

"Whatever." Abby says, dropping it. "Are you coming into work today?"

"For once, no. I'm not taking any extra shifts today." Emma responds, walking into her kitchen to prepare herself breakfast.

"Alright, well, I'll talk to you tomorrow then." Abby says.

"Kay, bye." Emma says, ending the call.

Emma sits down on her couch, a bowl of cereal in her hands, staring at her TV mounted on the wall as the news plays.

"_Welcome to Citadel Morning News, I'm Fareen Kel, and these are the top stories of the morning. _

'_C-Sec authorities are still trying to piece together evidence left at the scene of the Corner Club two days ago. Lead Detective of the investigation, Detective Ar Chellick was reported saying:_

'_We believe that this was a gang hit. The club owner was an affiliate with the Keyzer Cartel which is currently in a gang war with the Dix Ice gang over control of the illegal drug trade here on the Citadel. C-Sec is controlling the situation well and we will not allow the criminal drug trade to succeed here on the Citadel. The hitman was described by witnesses to be a tall human male in his mid to late twenties with long light brown hair and a rough beard, last seen wearing black clothing.'_

"_C-Sec is currently providing rewards for information regarding the unknown hitman although he is believed to work for the Dix Ice gang. More on that story as information is presented. This just in, there's been another death as a result of a mugging in the Wards. The victim who is a John Doe was found dead early this morning. We go live to on scene reporter, Gina Aldran, Gina…"_

The TV switches over to an image of a street cordoned off by C-Sec.

"Shit, that's just a few blocks from where I was last night." Emma mumbles to herself, thanking God that she took a cab home even though she could've walked.

"_Thanks Fareen. Just two hours ago, passersby arriving for work early in the morning here in the Freeman district discovered the body of a young man and called C-Sec immediately. C-Sec arrived and cordoned off the area and it's been deemed a mugging gone bad by detectives on scene. Detectives were unable to identify the victim, currently registered as a John Doe but have determined that the mugging was particularly violent and that the victim did attempt to fight back but was ultimately shot and killed. Detective Roger Harkin, detective in charge of the investigation into street crimes here on the Citadel, had this to say about the most recent death:_

'_Another death is truly tragic, and it's very unfortunate but this guy's death may serve to prevent future ones. Surveillance cameras show our victim, Mr. John Doe, walking alone late at night through vacant streets. He allowed himself to be surrounded by his attackers and tried to fight them off which ultimately got him killed. This guy is a prime example of what NOT to do when getting mugged. Citizens don't do the things this guy did and you'll be just fine.'_

"_A rather straight forward piece of advice from Detective Harkin. I'm Gina Aldran, back to you Fareen."_

Emma takes a breath and shakes her head. That could've been her last night. There's a knock at the door. Emma frowns and gets up from her couch, placing her cereal on the coffee table. She walks over to the door to her apartment and uses the panel on her wall to look at the two men standing in front of her door. She doesn't recognize them but they're wearing C-Sec uniforms.

"Who is it?" Emma asks through the intercom anyways.

"_C-Sec ma'am." _The turian of the pair responds, holding his badge up to the camera.

Emma opens the door and looks at them, worry written on her face. "Yes?"

"Ma'am do you know this man?" The human officer asks, holding showing her a picture on his omni-tool of… Jack for her to see.

"Um, well kind of." She responds. "I met him last night at Vibes. What's this about?"

"Ma'am, we just need you to come down to the station with us, answer a few questions about this man." The turian explains. "Don't worry, you're not under arrest. But we'd very much appreciate your cooperation."

"O-Okay." She says, nervously. She looks down only now aware of her deplorable appearance. "C-Can I get changed first?"

"Take all the time you need, there's no rush whatsoever." The human says.

"Please… Come in and make yourself at home while you wait for me." Emma says, opening the door for the two of them.

They enter, seeming to fill the room with their presence. Police will tend to do that.

Emma goes to her room and chooses comfortable clothing and goes into the bathroom to shower. She steps into the shower when she's undressed and the water is to her satisfaction. She thinks about what reason they could possibly have for taking her down to the police station. To answer questions about Jack? That's so strange.

**##########################################################**

**At this very moment, in the morgue of the Citadel Security Headquarters' Forensic department, the forensic mortician for the day has discovered something bizarre and exciting and has called his boss the lead forensic investigator to show him his discovery.**

The lead forensic investigator walks into the morgue, choosing to leave his cup of coffee outside of the morgue itself on the sign-in officer's desk. He puts on a mask and gloves that sit next to the entrance as he walks over to the autopsy table where the forensic mortician stands, the latest mugging victim, dissected upon the table.

"Alright, Matt." The lead forensic investigator says with an audible overeager sigh. "This better be worth my time."

"It is boss, it is!" The mortician, Matt, says sounding also too overeager. "This is like nothing I've ever seen!"

"Alright, run me through this." The lead forensic investigator says leaning against the autopsy table, looking into the bodily cavity of the corpse.

"First, I took a DNA sample and ran it through the system." Matt says. "Just some blood no problem, right? Well, the system flipped the shit out and told me that his DNA was invalid."

"What does that mean?" The lead forensic investigator asks.

"I have no clue!" Matt exclaims excitedly. "So I decided to skip that and save it for later, because I figured it was just a problem with the system or something, which might I mention has never ever happened. After that I removed his clothing which was brand new by the way. I took his omni-tool off and emptied his pockets. All he had on him was a hotel room key and a credit chit with an astronomical amount of credits on it."

The lead forensic investigator takes the bin with the John Doe's possessions in it, just his omni-tool, earpiece and throat mic and a credit chit. The lead forensic investigator takes the credit chit and checks the funds stored on it.

"Goddamn!" The lead forensic investigator exclaims. "Was this guy going to buy a car or something?!"

"According to the credit chit's purchase record for yesterday evening it was used to make a bunch of small purchases." Matt says. "But I ran his omni-tool through the system and found that it was reset two days ago, meaning it's either stolen or purchased used."

"Listen Matt, that's all great information but aren't these things that you could be telling me in the report and not in person?" The lead forensic investigator asks. "I got a shit ton of work to do, buddy."

"There was something you had to see for yourself otherwise you wouldn't believe me." Matt says. "So I was performing the autopsy when I found something extremely peculiar that I just couldn't figure out at first. See I documented his fatal wounds, the stab through his chest, the hacked shoulder, the gunshots and whatnot and started looking through his organs and found this. And I didn't notice it quite at first. You got gloves? Good. Alright this will seem a bit odd but I need you to reach on in there and put your hand in his guts. Anywhere."

The lead forensic investigator gives Matt a doubtful look but decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, placing his hand in the John Doe's chest cavity, and putting his hand on his liver. The lead forensic investigator looks at Matt with a baffled expression.

"That's… That's not possible." The lead forensic investigator says, his hand still on the victim's liver.

"I know!" Matt exclaims. "He's hot! His body is still producing body heat despite being dead for the last seven hours! I didn't notice it until I opened his sternum up! I used thermal imaging to try and find his heat source but it's like this guy's alive and kicking right now!"

"What the fuck?" The lead forensic investigator mumbles. "Does this kind of thing happen often with humans?"

"No! A cadaver loses all body heat within a few hours depending on weather conditions." Matt exclaims. "That's why this is so fantastic."

The lead forensic investigator starts examining the body. As he looks at the chest cavity he notices something strange.

The lead forensic investigator "Um, Matt, how many times was this fellow shot?"

"Seven times. Once in the neck, severing his carotid, and then six center mass. The killers hit his diaphragm and punctured his left lung." Matt explains, pointing to the damaged organs.

"And what sort of state was his ribcage in?" The lead forensic investigator asks.

"Broken in parts, but intact enough to open without removing it entirely." Matt says. "Why?"

The lead forensic investigator gestures for Matt to come over to his side and when he does, he points at the victim's ribcage.

"What… It's completely intact?" Matt asks rhetorically. "But… It was busted to bits! I have pictures to prove it!"

"This isn't a normal human, get the Executor down here now!" The lead forensic investigator says.

"No way. No way." Matt says, gaping at the corpse. "Boss, boss, boss! Look!"

The lead forensic investigator looks back at the body, his eyes widening as his damaged organs start appearing as if time is rolling backwards for them, their damaged surfaces repairing seamlessly.

"Holy shit!" Matt exclaims jumping up and down. "Holy shit holy shit holy shit. Oh fuck a duck! Fuck a duck! Fucking fucked up shit right here. Holy goddamn fuck!"

"GET THE EXECUTOR HERE NOW!" The lead forensic investigator exclaims in shock.

Suddenly there is a noise from the body and both men fall dead silent.

"Was that…?" Matt asks as he looks at the body.

That sound again. They look into the chest cavity and wait, both of their eyes on the same organ. His heart contracts wetly suddenly.

Matt shouts loudly in shock, stumbling back and knocking things over. "FUCKING FUCK! HOLY FUCKING FUCK AAAAAAAAHHH! GODDAMN FUCKING SHITTING FUCKING SHIT! OH MY FUCKING GOD! OH JESUS MOTHER OF GOD JESUS! JESUS! OH JESUS!"

"SPIRITS SAVE ME!" The lead forensic investigator exclaims stepping away from the corpse as it reanimates into a living creature.

Color starts returning to the John Doe's skin as his heart starts beating faster and faster. Before their eyes the John Doe's physical appearance literally changes. His skin grows less weathered, wrinkles and creases fading away as his skin tightens. His cheeks grow less gaunt and his stubble thins. His hair darkens a bit and his nose, slightly crooked, straightens and becomes immaculate. His lips grow softer and newer, his skin is wiped clean of any imperfections. His muscles lose a bit of their leanness and grow a tiny bit larger. They also get to watch as his liver, lungs and other organs shift in color appearing more and more healthy as his heart continues to accelerate. This man literally grew younger before their eyes. Suddenly, when it seems as if this immobile corpse is running a marathon, the heart stops beating.

The two men are both silent, staring at the corpse. After several moments, both of them get up and walk over to the corpse, looking into it.

Then by some bizarre magic, his rib cage, split at the sternum and hinged out snap together and into place. The cut down his sternum seals seamlessly and the two flaps of flesh flop together as well, the incisions made by Matt sealing, leaving no trace that they were there at all.

As soon as the last trace of the cut vanishes, the former cadaver takes a deep breath and sits up.

"FUUUUUCK!" Matt screams, going to make a run for the exit. The lead forensic investigator falls back, and freezes, his eyes wide as this man, this thing that was until two minutes ago was a corpse, swings his legs over the edge of the table and stands, his sheet slipping off of his nude form.

The man grabs a tray full of surgical equipment and hurls it like a discus, and it bangs into the back of Matt's head as he tries to run, knocking him out cold instantly.

The man nods in approval of this feat and looks down at the lead forensic investigator who gapes at him wide eyed, unmoving from fear.

"I used to kill people who watched that happen." The man, shamelessly naked says. "Answer me, are you a bad person. Who have you killed?"

The lead forensic investigator doesn't respond too stricken with fear at this man to respond.

The man takes a breath and leans in close, smelling of preservative chemicals. "I can see fear in your eyes. Fear comes hand in hand with innocence you live this day but…"

The man puts his finger to his lips and hushes the lead forensic investigator. He then places a single hand on the lead forensic investigator throat, his fingers feeling about a bit before he squeezes. The lead forensic investigator's vision goes black within seconds.

**##########################################################**

**At this very moment, in an interrogations room, a dedicated detective searches for answers.**

"Sorry I don't know his last name." Emma says feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

The turian detective sighs. "Alright well-"

An officer rushes into the room. "Detective! Body's gone."

"What?" The turian detective asks in shock.

"It's gone and the lead forensic investigator and the forensic mortician have both been heavily drugged and knocked out." The officer says.

The turian detective slams his fist on the table and puts his hands on top of his head, staring at the ceiling.

Emma stares at him fearfully. "What's going on? What body? Why am I here? What does this have to do with Jack?"

The turian shakes his head and slides a business card across the table. "I'll be in touch. You can go ma'am. Have a nice evening."

The human detective from earlier arrives, moving so fast she slides past the hall a bit. She hops into the room.

"Chellick!" She exclaims. "What the shit Partner?! I just heard!"

Detective Ar Chellick rests his head in his hand. "We've got a lot of work to do."


	4. Chapter 4: Virtual

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUSTICE**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 4**

**VIRTUAL**

**##########################################################**

**It is the 10****th**** of January, 2174. I am pacing my room at the Gamot Hotel on the Zakera Ward. Nervous Jack? That's new.**

"Hey, Callie." I start, running my hand through my hair. "It's Jack I know it's been a couple of days since we were togeth- Not that we're together I'm- I meant that it's been a few days since we… you know hung out and… well you're… I was think um… Okay! JACK! Get your shit together goddammit! You haven't even called her yet and you can't talk to her! You literally can't get through a practice session? Seriously? She's not even standing here in front of you. She's not even on the other end of a call and you're talking like a fucking baboon!"

I thump my head against my wall a few times. Holy shit. Okay. You just need to cool your jets buddy. Just, go out, get a drink or something, cool…

No you're going to end up getting plastered and you'll call her drunk and make a fool out of yourself. Alright… you know what? I'm just going to not think about it. Just not going to think about it. You've got work to take care of today. Alright, let's see what's left on your agenda:

You've made an encrypted bank account under a pseudonym: Jack Alderman.

You've bought a few more pieces of clothing and slowly started to put your life back together.

You ensured that nobody saw you escape that police station even though you were stark naked for a little bit. I'm not even sure how I managed that to be honest. Dumb luck all the way.

You spent the last few days clearing debris from your super exclusive warehouse but still haven't figured out how to restore power and plumbing to it.

What do I need to do?

Well. I'm still unregistered on the Citadel. Maybe you can find someone… a hacker or a forger who can put you into the system and falsify some documents for you? I need somebody who can do that.

I still haven't figured out how to use those revolvers I found…

And I don't really have all that much money. This hotel is costing me a fortune. So I'll need to find some more.

Oh, and of course I need to pay the Keyzer Cartel a visit. They really don't know who they're messing with. But that's not on top of my priorities list right now.

I take a look at myself in the mirror, wearing a pair of dark green slim cargo pants, a pair of black and grey athletic shoes and my classic tee, the one with the chevron and a black jacket. If you haven't figured it out yet, I like cargo pants. They're functional and they look cool. I check to make sure I have my room key, my credit chit and my omni-tool. I also have Catherine tucked away in my waistband. She still has one full clip, though she's still inferior to modern weapons, unfortunately and since I have my omni-blade I don't really need Vagabond anymore. I'll still keep them however, as a reminder of the past.

I'm not going to lie, this world is so much better than the one I inhabited before. I like it here. I'm happy here. It's a chance for me to start over, be a new man, and make my mark on this world. And I have a rough idea on how to do this.

The current crime situation on the Citadel is absolutely staggering. Criminals run rampant and Citadel Security, the Citadel's only police force, is practically powerless to stop them, thanks to budget cuts, according to the media.

I have a feeling, just a hunch, that there's more to it than that, and I intend to find out. I head back into my room from the bathroom and pack an extra pair of underwear and a pair of cotton jogger shorts and I also put one of the revolvers in it as well. I then sling my backpack over my shoulder and proceed to exit the hotel.

It's been several days since I woke up in the morgue. Following my wake up, it didn't take me long to realize that people had watched my resurrection. In the past, I killed people for witnessing it. Because when I let them run off with that precious secret, I became an enemy, a pariah. Learn from your mistakes, right? I especially couldn't let that happen this time around so I knocked them both unconscious, knocked out the sign in guard, took his clothes and escaped but not before drugging them with whatever chemical was in the lab that my omni-tool told me wasn't fatal but carried hallucinogenic properties. I also wiped the omni-tools of the two men and ensured that there wasn't any surveillance equipment in the morgue that had recorded anything that had happened. I escaped the facility easily and made it back here without a hiccup. So far, I've gotten off scot free. I was worried that they may have taken a DNA record but I couldn't find anything in my mad rush to get out of there. Hopefully they don't have anything they can use.

I exit my hotel. In my experience the best way to find criminals is to… well… find criminals. There's a chain to follow, they know each other or at least know of each other for whatever reason. First thing's first though. Training.

I follow the directions on my omni-tool to lead me back to the Zakera chute that'll take me back to the warehouse. I nod at a Keeper pointlessly as I walk up to the chute and slide it open. I duck inside and grab the handle on the inside of the chute, letting my weight and gravity carry the door closed as I start sliding down the chute. It's a short trip back to the warehouse, the brake doors doing their job to slow me down. I slide onto the lift and stand, brushing myself off. I don't know if I'll ever get used to that.

I lower the elevator but get impatient and hop off of it to the ground. The place doesn't look half bad. All I've had to do was send the debris up the chutes and the Keepers take care of it. But for now, I think I'll use what's left of this debris as targeting practice. I head inside the warehouse and find some small metal cans and stack them evenly on a railing. I walk away from them and put my backpack on the ground.

I open it and remove the revolver taking a seat on a box to examine it. I turn it over and over in my hands just looking at it for a while. It's a weirdly front heavy. Hopefully it's powerful to compensate for how awkward it is to hold. There's no hammer and no indication of a safety so I choose to just point the weapon at one of the cans. I pull the trigger.

Nothing happens but there's an audible click as if the weapon is out of ammo. Maybe that's the problem? I scan the revolver with my omni-tool and it brings up some stats for the gun.

_Entry: Maxus Model 50 _

_The Maxus Model 30, MM-50 or as it is more commonly known: The Maxus, is unique modern handgun designed by Christopher Carmelli Maxus. The weapon's design and features are inspired by the infamous revolving handguns or 'revolvers' commonly used in the 19__th__, 20__th__ and 21__st__ centuries on Earth, long a dead design; specifically it is inspired by the Mateba Model 6 Hunter variant, a weapon designed by one of Maxus's ancestors. The Maxus, like its inspiration, the Mateba Model 6, has its barrel positioned at the bottom of the cylinder, which in this case is the Maxus's heat sink. The unique positioning of the barrel in relation to the firing mechanism allow for recoil to be directed backwards, straight into the user's hand and arm, minimizing upward recoil and muzzle flip common of most modern handguns. The Maxus's mass accelerator, unlike most modern handguns, is behind the heatsink and extracts rounds from the ammo block housed along the underside of the barrel to fire through the heatsink which is also specially designed for the Maxus. The positioning of the ammo block has resulted in a large amount of protest from users who say that the Maxus is very front heavy making it awkward to hold when not firing. When Maxus designed the weapon however, he claimed that the reason that the ammo block is along the underside of the eight and a quarter inch barrel is to 'balance' the weapon, distributing its weight evenly along the entire weapon so that when fired the weapon doesn't have much if any upward recoil, thereby making the weapon more accurate._

_The Maxus is unique in that it boasts features that most modern handguns do not, causing debate on whether the revolver-style of handgun is truly inferior. The Maxus fires an extremely powerful round compared to most modern handguns; its round being comparable to a .50 AE round in overall power, recoil and effect. Most modern handguns with very high power, limit their fire rate so as not to overload the heatsink and also fire slower due to high recoil. The Maxus is unique in that it wasn't designed to limit fire rate and it's able to 'fire as fast as you can pull the trigger' similar to double-action revolvers of their era. As a drawback, if one fired as quickly as possible until the heatsink was spent, it would have a shot capacity of exactly 6 shots, just like most old revolvers. Its most interesting feature perhaps is that it has an open air heatsink rather than an internal one, allowing for quicker cooling, but a much greater risk of damage or malfunction due to debris. However, if or when in the heat of battle the user's weapon over heats, he or she can if need be open the chamber and remove the heatsink to swap it out with a fresh one if they have one. This is entirely unique of modern weapons._

_The weapon's final unique feature is a strange one. The Maxus's accelerator starter and safety are located on the underside of the barrel right in front of the trigger guard. This strange placement is because Maxus wanted it to be the weapon that revived the revolver style of design and combat. This included the fabled 'quick-draw' duels famous of the old west. To do this, Maxus designed the mass accelerator to be able to be turned on by pushing the switch forwards towards the front of the weapon, so that when holstered in a specially designed holster, the user can simply draw and fire, with the holster actually switching the safety off and the mass accelerator on._

_Scanning…_

_This weapon is currently fully loaded and was produced…_

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Nobody cares omni-tool. Let's get shooting! I say pushing the safety switch forwards towards the barrel. Small lights along the barrel light and the red ring on the cylinder which apparently is the 'heatsink' begins to glow brightly.

I raise my Maxus revolver and aim it at one of the containers, taking up a good shooting stance, holding my revolver with two hands. I pull the trigger and blast the can to bits, sending whatever remains of it flying off. The round continues through the can and buries itself in the metal column behind it, leaving a huge hole.

Goddamn! Now this is a fucking gun! Sorry Catherine but it looks like you've been replaced. This thing is powerful as hell! Even though my omni-tool said it had low upwards recoil and muzzle twists it still has some, and it may not have upwards recoil but goddamn does it have backwards recoil! That one shot shook my whole damn arm! It's a real wrist breaker I grin as I take aim again, not aiming at the can but just in that direction in general.

I pull the trigger as fast as I can, unleashing a five shot hail of powerful rounds strikes the metal. Not super accurate thanks to the bone shattering recoil but at close range that'll definitely do some damage. That's going to be a last resort kind of thing. I look at my weapon as it makes a beeping noise. The heatsink's red ring is glowing extremely brightly, its brightness reducing by the second. I place my hand near it and feel intense heat wafting off of it. So I guess it absorbs the heat produced by the weapon? Kickass.

This is one hell of a gun. The best part is…

I'VE GOT _THREE_ BIG ASS REVOLVERS MOTHER FUCKERS! SUCK MY FUCKING MAXUS MODEL 50s!

After waiting for the weapon to cool, I shoot the remaining four cans, using only one hand instead of two, before turning the safety on and spinning the revolver on my finger, pantomiming me holstering it on my leg. I should try and get me one of those special holsters so I can just quick draw and 'BLAM!' dead mugger with a softball sized hole in his chest.

I put the weapon down on my backpack to let it cool before stripping down to change into my athletic shorts. I stretch and prepare myself for my exercise regimen, removing my shirt so that I don't get it dirty.

I warm myself up throwing a few shadow punches before I sprint towards the conex box. I leap up, grabbing the edge and I throw myself up, rolling over the top. I sprint towards the second floor leaping and grabbing the edge just barely. I haul myself up, vaulting over the railing.

**##########################################################**

**Exercise is an escape. A **_**constant**_** in my strange, unpredictable life.**

I land back on the ground floor and roll, landing on my feet but falling right back to the ground, lying there and breathing heavily, sweat drenching me. I focus on slowing my heart down and breathing steadier as I stare at the ceiling. It doesn't take long for me to cool down and I sit up from my position. I perform some stretches and dust myself off before I change my underwear and put my original clothes back on. I look at my Maxus revolver and decide to stow that in my waistband rather than Catherine.

"Sorry, gorgeous." I say dropping her in my backpack.

Way back in the day when I still lived in Montreal, I had a place a lot like this. I would come and go as I pleased keeping my head down but doing my thing. I'd go out every day and kill raiders or stop raids or hunt thieves.

I remember, many years ago I had one of the Hunters on my ass. He was actually the father of the two who're hunting me right now. He was one of the most level headed Hunters who'd come for me over the years and he had a significant moral compass just like me. The rules of the Hunters was that they needed to hunt and kill me at least once a year, but they can do it more if they so choose. Not him, he only came to find me once a year and he succeeded every time he did. One time, it was his last year hunting me, he came up to me in a bar and sat with me and we talked for a little while over drinks. He was quiet, and would always take me out in a way I didn't expect. So I was quite surprised he actually showed his face this time.

He asked me what I was trying to accomplish. I told him that I was trying to right the common wrongs that the world had presented to me over the years. And I asked him the same question. He sat there, thinking for a long time about his answer before he looked at me and said something I'll never forget:

"'I don't know anymore.' He said. 'In the decade since I started doing this, hunting you, I helped people along the way. I didn't do what my dad did, and kill _every _meta-human I found. If they were bad I killed them. You know I was always just right around the corner right? Figuratively of course but you know my meaning. I could've killed you, every day, that's how close I've been this whole time. Hell, if I tried hard enough I could've set up a machine that rekilled you every 8 hours, keeping you dead indefinitely. But I didn't. I waited and I watched you. I watched you go out every day and hunt down bad guys and kill them. I realized that you and I were doing the same thing really, if you think about it: Hunting down bad guys. I'll be honest, why you're still the bad guy is lost to me, the family's vendetta has outlived the story of why evidently. I asked my father, the day I left to find you, why I'm hunting him. You know what his response was? He just scowled, spit on my shirt and pushed me out the door. And do you know what I did every day that I didn't find and kill you? I went and collected medicine and food and water and gave it to people who needed it. I get that you're trying to help people, Prometheus. But why do it the way you do? Why not try it my way?'

'It's not about helping people.' I said. 'It's about justice. About righteous vengeance for those who can't seek it themselves. I enact revenge for people who don't do it themselves. I'm the executioner. I'm not the jury, I'm not the people. I don't do this to help people, Hunter. I do this because they deserve the fate they chose. I do what I do because they chose to throw their life away, give their soul over to crime and evil.'

'Some might see what you're doing to be wrong.' Hunter said.

'I understand this.' I responded. 'To some, what I do might be a crime. But by what rule of law do we live, Hunter? Whose law do we abide by?'

Hunter thought long and hard. 'I live by my law, and you live by yours.'

I snapped my fingers. 'There you go. There is no law and order anymore, just you, me, and everybody else out here in the world trying to survive. And in a world like this the only law you follow is your own and thus, there is chaos. But there are the natural laws they all abide by and crimes they all know to be wrong: Murder, rape, arson, theft, etc. These men and women whose law dictates that these crimes _aren't _wrong… those are the criminals I hunt. Someday, maybe, I can create order for all people, a world where all people knows those crimes to be wrong.'

'You speak of a world of fear, Jack.' Hunter says shaking his head. What he said next stuck with me. 'Your world of order is a world with fear of your law, not an agreement over the natural laws of men that you talk about. A world of fear, of death for criminal action, not of acceptance of wrongdoing. Jack… I don't know what I'm trying to accomplish anymore, but isn't that the best part about living life? Stepping through a door not knowing what lies beyond? Charging headlong into the wide open? Walking down the road and not knowing where it leads?'"

Life is about living. And living is not necessarily knowing what comes next. That was the lesson that he taught me. He spoke about how life is wonderful because it's big, strange and mysterious. Not to me it isn't. Or it wasn't. A shame he died those years later. I liked him. And a shame that his lesson, though wise and profound, didn't apply. It was post apocalypse. In the wastes, life wasn't about living, it was about struggling to survive. Survival made more difficult by the monsters that roamed it, by the other survivors of the world.

I shake my head. Makes me sick. I cannot die. I accept this as a fact. Crime will never die. This I do not, cannot accept. If life is about living, then as a man who cannot see that life to its end, I will preserve those who must live their lives to the fullest, I will fight for their right to life and death. Crime is a sickness. It is a parasite that eats those lives away.

Justice will always prevail. In this new world, there are men and women who dedicate their lives to law and order. The peace keepers who swear their lives over in the name of justice. This is a good world. But crime is a persistent creature. It's a red dragon who even when he is cast down from glory into nothingness, he still burns with enough ire, that he crawls out of the darkness no matter how weak in order to cause strife and chaos in the glory that he was cast from.

I will fight him to my last breath. And my next last breath. And my next. I used to think that maybe I only have a certain number of 'last breaths' and maybe when I used them all up, I'd finally die.

So far, I still seem to have more coming. Does this mean that I throw them away at every opportunity? No. Especially not here. My rather recent death and resurrection nearly ruined any chance that I had of operating in this world in the shadows, nearly ruined my chance of recreating my life.

I will not rest until crime on this new fantastic world is gone for good. This world is rich with greatness. Great food, great drink, great people. I need to work harder than ever in order to stomp out the red dragon's flame.

I shake bad thoughts out of my head and walk over to the Aroch Point chute. So I kind of figured out how each of these chutes works. My omni-tool has difficulty pinpointing the precise location of the warehouse itself claiming it's due to the excessive level of FTL communicative interference in the area. I don't really know what that means, but it's probably a good thing. According to that old datapad though it's somewhere on the Presidium, which is the ring in the middle of the Citadel.

Each Ward has three chutes: The Lower Ward Chutes, which are closest to the Presidium. The Middle Ward Chutes, in the middle of the Wards, and the Ward Point Chutes, near the end of each. To be honest, the taxi service could get me anywhere on the Citadel I want but the chutes are free and I don't run into traffic at all on the chutes. Although I wish they were a bit gentler with me than they are.

I ride the lift up to the Aroch Point Chute and walk through each brake door, entering the rings that serve as my ride up to Aroch Point. It's a longer trip for some places, like the Ward Points which are about as far away as you could get from the Presidium. A ride down the chute from one of the Points would probably take about 20 minutes, meaning I'd top out at about 120 or 130 KM/H. But I can actually get places faster going up the chutes using the ring lifts. This trip will probably take about ten to 13 minutes which means the rings top out at almost 200 KM/H. I really don't know how these chutes work but I don't complain.

The trip doesn't take long, again the ring lift launches me through the hatch but I planned ahead for this! I've conveniently placed a box or crate in the path of the hatch that I reset every time I come through.

Sure it hurts to fly into a crate like a cannonball but if I catch it on my back it's not so bad and it's way better than bouncing off of the wall. I pick myself up from the ground and brush myself off.

I walk down the alleyway, remembering when those C-Sec officers chased me down this alleyway. I stare at my omni-tool relying on it to lead me through the alleyways. Alright, now to find some criminals.

"Hey!" I hear someone ahead of me shout. "You! I want to talk to you!"

I look up at the young human approaching me. That was easy. Gosh he must be only 20 at best. I sure hope he doesn't try to mug me. Because then I'll have to kill him. Then again if he redeems himself somehow I guess I can let him slide.

"You come through here sometimes. I've seen you." The young man says approaching me, getting awkwardly close. I can tell he's trying to intimidate me but it won't work. I hope this doesn't incite anger in him and cause him to attack me. "I see you coming out of that dead end, wanker. But I never see you go in. What's the deal? This is my turf, fucker."

"You ever kill anybody?" I ask him. "I can tell that you steal, but have you ever killed anybody?"

"What?" He says. "What's wrong with you, mate? What's in the backpack? Why don't you hand it over?"

"I will if you tell me if you've ever killed anybody." I say.

"You looking for trouble?" He asks. "I'll give you trouble if you want trouble."

He throws a clumsy punch at me which I lean to avoid. I let my lean carry me around his side and I back pedal a bit. He rushes at me and throws another clumsy punch. I pull my arm back and ram it forward, my aim impeccable and my punch far stronger as my knuckles smash into his curled fingers. I hear a snap and he shrieks in pain, his fingers and wrist broken. I advance as he tries to stumble away, my hand closing around his wrist. I wrench his arm around his back and lift, dislocating his shoulder in addition to his broken hand. He yells in pain and fear and falls away from me as I let him go. As he tries to crawl away I stomp down on the back of his knee. Not hard enough to break it but hard enough to do some damage and keep him from crawling off.

I walk around him as he crumples into a fetal position to hold his knee with his one good arm. I kneel next to him and he looks at me.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, thief." I say. "Have you ever killed somebody? Please be honest."

He looks up at me, eyes wide and fearful. "What're you going to do?"

I take my revolver out of my waistband and hold it lazily in my hands. "Answer the question."

"Yes!" He shrieks at me. "Goddammit yes! Alright?! Fuck you man! Fuck you!"

I sigh through my nose. A shame it has to end in such an unfortunate way. So young. "Young man, I'll ask you a few more questions here and then we'll be done. I'm looking for some things: I need to find somebody who can set me up with some fake documentation, put me into the Citadel's system. You understand?"

"Yeah…" He says sounding scared and in pain but hopeful. "There's only one person who can do that on the Citadel but he doesn't do business with anybody because C-Sec's looking for him night and day. He's a hacker… They call him Escape18. That's all I know. I can't help you find him. I'm sorry."

"That's fine, that's good information. I'll find him on my own. Next: Where does the Keyzer Cartel do business? Where is their operation focused?" I ask.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He exclaims. "Goddammit! Just go the fuck away!"

"Answer the question." I say sighing through my nose.

"Will you leave me alone if I do?" He asks.

I turn the safety on my Maxus off and put the barrel against his forehead but don't answer his question.

"Fuck!" He shouts. "Okay! Okay! The Keyzer Cartel is everywhere! They have rackets on Aroch, Teyseri and Zakera, okay?! They control the Wards. The Dix Ice gang runs part of Kithoi but they're expanding fast. The Cartel and the Dix Ice are in a war over the drug trade on the Citadel. I don't know if they have a base of operations and I don't know who their leader is. The Keyzer Cartel is in charge of all crime on their Wards, they make muggers and thieves who live and operate in their turf to pay fees while they freelance but everyone joins the Cartel eventually, alright? Is that enough fucking information?"

"It was plenty." I say standing and backing away from him a few steps. "Thank you."

I shoot him three times in the torso and stow my pistol away. I take his credit chit and search for anything else of value, but not finding anything worthwhile. I sigh and leave the alleyways in a hurry. The Maxus is loud. No doubt somebody somewhere heard it.

As I walk I check the amount of money of the credit chit. 1300. Not bad. I take out 500 credits and add it to my bank account. The banker or accountant or whoever I talked to when I went in the other day practically had a wet dream when I told them how much money I was putting into the bank. I got something like 41,023 credits from the club but I've managed to spend like 2,000 credits already, but they were still happy to open an account for a guy who was putting 39,000 credits in the bank. Once I check out of the hotel and pay the bill I'll see a significant detriment in my account.

I leave the alleyways and find my way to B's game stand by memory, the thick throng of the crowd slowing me down a little. Eventually, and after a few wrong turns I find his game stand and log its location on my omni-tool so that I can find it easier later.

"B!" I call approaching him.

"Oh hey, it's my favorite customer!" He exclaims. "How's it going guy?"

"Fine but I was wondering if you could help me out." I say.

"What do you need?" He asks.

"Just some information." I respond, sliding my newest credit chit across the counter to him, 800 credits on it.

B takes the credit chit and glances briefly and expressionlessly at the display. He uses his omni-tool to change the sign from saying 'Games' to 'Closed.' He nods me along and I follow him into a nearby restaurant.

"What do you need to know?" He asks as we sit at a table.

"I'm looking for the hacker Escape18." I say, my voice hushed.

B's eyes widen slightly. "Oh? That's interesting. Are you trying to get into the Citadel systems? Are you here illegally?"

I nod. "C-Sec doesn't have me on their records yet and I want to stay low key as much as possible so this has to be subtle as hell."

"Don't worry about it, I understand." B responds. "Escape18 is the only hacker with enough skill to hack through C-Sec's systems. I'm not sure how to contact him to be honest because he's lying low right now but I hear rumors that he's on this VR online game all the time. Maybe you can get in contact with him if you play the game?"

"I'm not much of a game guy." I say, running my hand over my head. "But I'll give it a shot I guess."

"Cool man." B says. "There's a VR arcade just down the street. If you drop his name at the arcade's receptionist I'm sure they'll set you up."

"Thanks, I'll head over there now." I say, standing from the table.

"Alright." B responds. "I'm going to stay and eat something but I'll meet you there. Maybe I'll be able to lend a hand."

"Why would I need help?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Something tells me that Escape18 likes a challenge and that someone like you might not be able to provide a challenge."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask him, crossing my arms.

"Nothing." B responds nonchalantly. "Just that you're not an experienced VR gamer. It's not like real life. Nobody plays video games to make it seem like they're delving deeper into their own lives, people play video games to escape reality."

"Doesn't VR stand for virtual reality though?" I ask.

He nods. "Yeah, so?"

"That's fucking stupid, it doesn't make any damn sense." I say shaking my head. "Why escape reality by going into a simulated one where you still have to do stuff like shit and piss and eat and walk? No fucking sense, whatsoever."

He shrugs. "That's the way the world works I guess. People just don't want to accept what's laid out before them."

I sigh, shake my head and leave without responding because I know he hit the nail on the head and there really is no more to say on that. I use my omni-tool to guide me to the arcade nearby. Now, I've never been in an arcade before, ruined or otherwise, but when I imagined arcades in the past, they weren't like this.

This is more like a mini-mall. It's frighteningly tall with a huge neon lit sign above the entrance featuring men in military gear sprinting through explosions and fires. I compose myself before entering this strange and mysterious place.

The receptionist is an Asari with extremely intricate and dark colored designs decorating her face, neck and head tentacle things. They take up a lot of her face but not too much, the designs looping and spiraling around her face, leaving natural winged eyeliner and lipstick as well. In addition to the complicated facial design she has a sparkling stud just below her lower lip as well as a trio of brow rings on her right eye and a row of rings on one of her head tentacle thingies. She also has dimple piercings and a stud in her left nostril. Her large entrancing eyes are nearly silver with a hint of blue, contrasting both her light azure skin tone and her dark facial designs. She wears a loose fitting white tank top with a graphic of a geometric wolf and it reveals a lot of skin, revealing her bare midriff and a lot of the lacy bra she wears, lifting her large, rather perky breasts for all to see.

What a harlot. She also wears a pair of tight fitting glossy black pants and heeled knee high boots.

"Welcome to the Rift." She says, her voice, big chested and like cool honey. "Which of our virtual experiences are you looking for today?"

"I'm looking for an escape." I say, looking her in the eyes.

"I see." She says catching on immediately. "Well, if that's the case then I can set you up with one of our sims. As long as you're over 18 that is."

"I am." I say, nodding and looking her deep in the eye.

"Very well." She says. "Please follow me to your VR pod and we'll get started."

She leads me through some double doors into the arcade itself which is a massive room with several tiers each tier having a few very large doorways with writing and graphics above them.

'Realm of Darkness,' 'Undead Nightmare,' 'God of Carnage,' 'Assassin's Legacy,' 'Alliance Hero,' 'Call of Valor,' the list of VR game titles go on. She leads me through a door way marked with huge ornate glowing orange letters with neon flames crackling around them: 'Demon Masters: War in Gilderan.' The doorway leads into a hallway with orange lighting which is a significant environment change as opposed to the neon blue and purple of the main arcade. The hall we're walking down is incredibly long and marked with numbers above each large door covered by a curtain. We get to a room, room 18, and the asari holds up the curtain for me.

I walk inside the room which is a large low lit room with a large platform with a glowing orange platform in the middle. I look back at her and she looks up and down the hall before slipping into my room.

"I have you hooked to 18's server." She says guiding me onto the platform. "Have you ever simmed before?"

I shake my head.

She tries to hold back a smile. "Well you're in for a treat. Some advice, 18 won't show himself to you unless you prove yourself capable. 18 likes a challenge. But 18 doesn't like to lose. Understand? All you got to do is make it to the keep before 18 does and you're sure to make his acquaintance, got it?"

"I guess." I shrug.

She pats my arm. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. The platform is your movement hub, it'll slide around based on your steps and movements, and it also serves as a flash fabricator to simulate obstacles in your path. You can do everything from walking to sprinting to rolling on this thing, vaulting over objects and what not. I don't suggest doing too much, like, leaping and diving because that might fuck up your calibration on the platform which might fuck up your game. Just no ridiculous leaps of faith, alright? The harness you're about to put on will simulate the weight of gear using mass effect technology and produce kinetic barriers that'll simulate increased body mass based on things like armor and whatnot. It'll also simulate things like falls, gravity, things like that. You won't be able to tell the difference. It'll also simulate blows against you. It hurts a bit and you might get the wind knocked out of you, as well as some bumps and bruises but you won't bleed. Nothing fatal or mortally injuring. Your VR helmet is your eyes, ears, nose and tongue. Yes, if you're curious, your helmet using, believe it or not, just ambient noise that you can't even physically hear, it'll trick your brain into thinking it's smelling or even tasting something, should you choose to lick something which I don't recommend in this sim. Good luck, you've got three lives to make it to the keep."

"Okay…" I say a bit nervously as I put on the harness which looks like a cage for my torso, arms and legs, as well as the helmet which looks sort of like a small formfitting motorcycle helmet. Three lives? I've never been so limited before; how daunting. How do normal people cope knowing that they only live once? I shiver unconsciously.

"Relax, newbie." The goth asari says with a malicious grin. "VR isn't hard to pick up. Just roll with the punches. Literally."

The helmet's transparent front turns black and I start to look around in a slight panic. Suddenly there is a bright white light and I am blinded for a second. I hold my hand up to try and shield myself from the light and find that I actually do shield the light with my hand. I look down and away from the light, now figuring out that I was looking at the sun. And now looking down I find that I'm dressed head to toe in shining steel armor that feels heavy on me. And now only do I notice the sounds around me. I lean against the large stone buttress in front of me and down the side of a massive white granite wall down at a huge swell of black water, thrashing uncontrollably. As I examine the black water, I realize that it's not water but a humongous army of ashen skinned monsters, attempting to climb the walls, hurling grappling hooks up towards us.

"Look out!" I hear someone shout. I look up and see a large dark object flying through the sky. A boulder?

The boulder slams into the wall below my position and the wall shakes violently, throwing me off balance. The wall soon stabilizes but only for a second. It jolts ridiculously and I feel myself grow weightless.

Oh great, I'm falling and that huge chunk of wall is coming right for me… There goes one of my lives. I hit the ground and my screens goes black as I feel the wind get knocked out of me. But I'm still conscious. I guess they can't simulate that.

I look over to my left and right and realize that I'm simply underneath the chunk of wall, barely being held up enough for me to have survived its fall. I start crawling, heading towards the small channel of light that'll serve as my exit. I notice that my armor is making it next to impossible for me to move, so I quickly unbuckle it from myself and leave it behind as I continue to crawl. I feel lighter, as if I really had shed armor. Interesting.

Just as I reach the gap that I could use as my escape something extremely large reaches in and grabs my hair, dragging me out from under the wall. It lifts me up off of the ground and grabs me by the neck, constricting it, making me feel like I'm going to choke.

The monster before me is basically a seven foot tall body builder with ashen grey skin, red eyes and tusks. Its long, wavy, greasy looking hair that hangs out of his crude looking helmet. He roars at me, his breath smelling of carcasses.

I cringe from the smell and ram my thumbs into his eye sockets. He roars in pain and lets go of my neck but I keep a hold on him, dragging him down to the ground and mounting his chest as I keep pressing my thumbs into his large eyes.

He roars and struggles against me, powerful arms and body trying to fight me off but I get a good grip on his head with my hands and start bashing his head into the stone ground, pushing my thumbs deeper into his eye sockets.

Finally after a while, he stops struggling and his mouth lolls open. I pull my thumbs out of his eye sockets, making a sickening squelching noise and I shake my hands off looking to my side for a way out of here.

Something rams into my side and I fall off of a railing and through a straw and wooden ceiling. I hit something hard and metal and roll off, grunting in pain. Another one of those creatures jumps into the room from the hole I made, glaring at me with cold eyes. I grunt as I stand, looking at him before taking in my surroundings quickly.

I'm in a blacksmith. I can see all kinds of weapons and armor here and behind me I feel an intense heat, probably the forge itself. Alright that makes this easier. The creature roars at me and charges, a crude axe raised up and poised to kill me. I dodge his first clumsy swing and swiftly kick him in the lower shin. He stumbles and falls into the forge, howling as he catches on fire. I pick up his axe as he struggles to push himself out of the burning hot coals he buried himself in and I plant the axe into his back, cleaving his ribcage and hopefully, cutting his heart.

He dies promptly and leaves the smithy smelling of shit. I move over to the armor racks, each outfitted with a set of armor and weapon to pair it with. Somehow text appears above the armor racks reading: _'Congratulations! You have passed the VR combat test! Now choose your class and good luck!'_ I choose a set of leather armor reinforced with steel half-plate. This'll give me good protection without reducing my movement too much. I take a very large sword meant to be carried with two hands and leave the smithy.

A knight with a thick reddish blonde beard dressed in classic medieval plate with a sword and kite shield rushes up to me and pats my chest. "Nice moves, guy, you want to head up to the keep with us? We're going to just try and cut our way through the orc blockade up this street."

I look above his head and see a name floating above his head without justification. L33tsKillzT_Bgger, it reads.

A few more people run up, one is a weird looking dragon-morph creature but I notice his features are remarkably turian, with a few tweaks. He carries a large crossbow and plenty of ammo with him and he's clothed in loose fitting pants with leather boots and bracers and a leather bandolier which holds the quiver with his ammo. Otherwise he has little else. Another is a massive golem of some kind, his skin stone-like but I notice his visage to resemble a krogan's. He carries with him a gigantic shield and medium sized hammer and he's armored with a massive ornate set of shining plate mail. Finally there is a woman clothed head to toe in tight robes that show off her lithe and muscular body with voluptuous curves where it matters. Her face is obscured by a veil and a hood covers her head. Behind the veil I can see her slightly glowing eyes. She has a spear with a long blade that she holds reversed. At the opposite end of the spear is a small star with a gem in it. She is otherwise unarmed.

I shrug. "Sure, as long as I get to the top before anyone else."

"You new to this game?" The golem whose screen name is Xx_SuxMaUrd_Not_xX asks.

I nod. "Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"You're logged in as 'Guest18' newb." The dragon-morph whose screen name is Fr1ngeF4natic says rather rudely.

"Leave him alone." The hooded woman snaps at him. Her screen name is L0StN0Mad. "He's got more kills than you do at the moment. Probably because he picked berserker, instead of strider."

"Two?" I ask giving the 'strider' a look.

"Fuck off." The dragon-morph strider snaps back.

"Would you two shut the fuck up?" The human knight, L33tsKillz says. "We're coming up on the orc barricade."

We round a corner and find ourselves on a very wide street, white granite steps leading up towards a white granite castle, nestled high on a hill. At the top of the granite steps is a crude wooden barricade made of large planks torn off of buildings and sharpened stakes. Behind the barricade numerous ashen skinned monsters stand either with crude bows in hand or with crude axes and cleavers.

Oddly, even though we're well within eyesight as well as within the range of the archers, the orcs don't attack.

"Alright, team." L33tsKillz says turning to us. "Game plan, how do we tackle this?"

"They've got us outnumbered a good… 10 to 1 I'd say." The robed woman, L0StN0Mad says.

"I can tank." Urd_Not says, slamming his gigantic tower shield onto the ground and breaking several stone tiles for good measure.

"So can I." L33tsKillz says. "Not as well as you, definitely but if you throw down a Relentless Aura I'll last longer."

"I can thin them out with arrow rain." The strider, Fr1ngeF4natic says.

"No dumbass, you'll hit us." Urd_Not growls at him. "Why'd you pick strider for the orc horde map? It's fucking useless you twit."

"Fuck off." Fr1ngeF4natic says, sounding defeated despite his resilience.

"Well, our best bet is that our golem warden and I play tank and distract them. Fr1ngey can kill a couple of them with his crossbow, focus on the archers first and then the brutes. If you spot any kamikazes, you pick them off, okay?" L33tsKillz says, putting the plan together in his head.

"What about us?" L0StN0Mad asks gesturing to me. "You know that I can do the most area damage, you two will die and have to respawn with that many orcs, not to mention brutes and there are archers to soften you up on the way up there."

L33tsKillz nods looking thoughtful. "Yeah you're right… Goddamn and our new friend here looks like he's taken to taking the berserker class so he won't tank very well, he needs to attack from behind or the side, but that's impossible here. What do you think, newbie?"

The group looks at me and I look at them. "Uh…"

I look around the street trying to think of a plan despite my inexperience with one: medieval warfare, two: video games, and three: orcs and bullshit. I notice that the buildings lining the street are all connected, no yards or alleys between them. I walk over to one of the buildings and feel the wall. Thin brick layers. I might be able to bash my way through these. I walk over to the closest door leading into the building on the left side of the street.

L33tsKillz calls to me. "What're you-"

I interrupt him as I kick the wooden door in, revealing a staircase leading up. I stand aside so they can see.

"Why haven't I ever thought of that?" L33tsKillz asks nobody in particular.

"I'll take N0Mad with me through the houses so we can get behind them. N0Mad can stay in the building and… do whatever it is that she does from above while I go down and attack them from behind. Fr1ngey, you should try and get into those houses on the right, so you can snipe them from above on the opposite side that we're attacking from. You two just distract them long enough for us to break up that phalanx they got going on up there. Sound good?" I ask.

L33tsKillz claps his sword to his shield. "Fuck yes! Let's do it! Fr1ngey go get into those buildings on the right, Urd_Not, let's start moving. I'll go behind you so I can stay behind your shield."

"I'm gonna score so may points here." Urd_Not growls pleasantly, lifting his shield off the ground and slowly advancing towards the barricade with L33tsKillz following him closely.

Fr1ngeF4natic hurries over to the buildings on the opposite side of the street and kicks the door to no effect. I managed to splinter the wood with my kick but that's only because I know how to fucking kick doors in. Not so much anymore though seeing as how all modern doors are metal and open in like 12 quadrillion different ways. It takes Fr1ngeF4natic a few more tries of door bashing before he breaks the lock and tumbles in.

"Let's go." I say to N0Mad rushing into the house and up the stairs my claymore held in both hands and ready to kill.

"I got your back, new guy." N0Mad says sticking close to me. We progress through the first building easily, reaching the wall connected to the next building without problem.

"These walls should be shared." I say, placing my hand on the wall. "It's just thin bricks so I should be able to bash through this with some effort. I wish I had some explosives or something."

"Don't worry, I can get us through." N0Mad says pressing on my arm to move me.

I move aside and out of the way as she widens her stance and pulls her spear, still reversed gripped for some reason back. She thrusts the star towards the wall and a wave of distorted air along with a small boom blasts out from it and collapses the wall beautifully. Better than a det-charge could've even done.

"Goddamn that was badass." I say moving to her side.

She lets out a breath. "Thanks. It's a concussion spell. Cool right?"

"Totally." I say heading through the hole in the wall and leading the way to the other side of the building again. "Can you do it again?"

"Absolutely." She does the same action, knocking the wall down with a blast of distorted air.

This time however a few orcs are on the other side, two looking wide eyed at us and one helping another up off of the ground covered in white dust from the bricks.

I charge forwards with my claymore in hand and slash up at the orc helping his friend to his feet. My sword arcs through the air and cleaves into the orc's thick neck, taking his head right off. I let the momentum of my swing carry the sword back over my left shoulder and I grab the sword's hilt with both hands, slashing back down and cleaving the prone orc's head in two with the end of my claymore.

There is a blur as my partner rushes past me. She performs an elegant and graceful dodge as one of the orcs swings at her head. She slides, dropping to her knees, sliding and spinning around under their swing. She flips her spear around her body as she slides, slashing one orc's shin and bashing the other's knee with the star. She rises to her feet quickly and stabs the spear into the back of one orc's neck. She pivots the blade around, slicing open the orc's neck violently, spilling blackish blood on the ground as she points the star at the other kneeling orc's head. A tongue of flames bursts out of the end of her spear and it engulfs the orc's head in flame.

He dies nearly instantly and she begins trying to wrench the end of the spear out of the other orc's neck. I see another orc in the door way near her. He rushes out his weapon raised.

"Watch it!" I shout, pickup up my sword and holding it reversed, the blade resting on my forearm, my fingers hooked around the cross guard.

I hurl the claymore sort of like a javelin as hard as I can and it flies remarkably well. The blade pierces the orc's upper neck and it embeds into the wall halfway. The orc gurgles and gags on blood, as his weight is being held up by the blade piercing his neck. His hands fumble against it desperately.

"Not bad new guy. Not bad." N0Mad looks between the two of us before settling to look at me. She frees her spear and pierces the orc's heart with her spear. "But that's going to be my kill officially. All you get is a kill assist and savior points."

I give her a condescending but playful look as I go retrieve my claymore. "Oh you tease. I see how it is. I'll just think twice about saving you next time then."

"Or just aim better." She says with a shrug as I free my blade from the wall after a little struggle.

I give her a look again. "Alright, just go do your spells out that window I'm going to go gung ho and cut through some orcs downstairs."

"Better make it quick." N0Mad says opening the window and looking out below. "It looks like our tanks are in trouble and Fr1nge is doing very little to help."

I curse and hurry downstairs onto the street. I can't see my buddies through the formation of large orcs but I can definitely hear the sound of battle. I roar in battle rage and charge at the nearest group of orcs I see, swing my sword with both hands as hard as I can. My sword cuts the kidney of one orc, cleaves through the lower back of another, and buries itself in the thigh of a third. The first and third orcs still live although mortally wounded. Instead of wrenching my blade out of the third orc's leg first, I drive my fist into his head and rip off his helmet, beating him with it until blood flies out of his skull with every blow. I throw the helmet in a random direction into the orc formation as chaos begins to erupt everywhere as the orcs attempt to keep their lines together and deal with the brutal flanking.

I rip my claymore free and stab it through the one-kidneyed orc's chest. I rip it free and just then a fireball flies out of the third story window of the window I was just in and explodes in the orc ranks, light several orcs aflame.

I grin as the orc formation falters and the orcs start moving around in random directions trying to make sense of the situation. I slash through two scurrying orcs and dodge the attack of another. The orc slashes at me with his axe, trying to disembowel or wound me as I back pedal away from him. I stab my claymore into the orc as he lunges at me and I back step, using my weapon's superior length to split his sternum. I pull back and spin around, spinning my blade with me into a powerful cleave that takes his head off as easy as if it were butter.

I rush towards a group of orcs again, deciding that using spinning slashes is the best method as it gives me increased momentum for attacks. I spin as I reach them and slash wide, the incredible weight and length of my weapon in conjunction with my impressive physical strength cleaves through several orcs. There is another explosion of flames burning more orcs and nearby several orcs go flying as Urd_Not rams his way through the ranks, his shield acting like a plow, his hammer swinging seemingly wildly but cracking skulls as he plows his way through the ranks. L33tsKillz comes through next, his sword shining as it sails through the air and guts orcs, slices open their throats and pierces their chests.

I stab an orc through the face and spin around, ripping my blade out of his face to tear open another's as it comes around.

A lightning bolt sails through the third story window and chains between at least a dozen orcs before it dies along with the orcs. I spin and slash through another group of orcs. I hear a roar behind me and something wizzes past my head. I spin around, ready to stab when I see and orc standing right over me, his crude sword ready to stab into me. But he was cut short as a crossbow bolt hit him square in the eye.

Alright, Fr1ngey!

I spin around again, cracking my pommel against the side of an orc's head making him fall to the ground for me to stomp on his face with all my might.

I look up, ready to pick my next target to kill but it seems the battle's been won.

I look over at L33tsKillz who grins at me.

"We kicked ass!" L33tsKillz exclaims. "Holy shit! That was kick ass! We totally cleaned up! Man! I was worried we might be a little thin on numbers to attack the orc barricade but goddamn! That was awesome! Fuck yes!"

"It's a straight shot to the keep now!" N0Mad says joining us from the building.

"Way to kick some orc ass guys." Fr1nge says coming down from his building.

"Let's get to the keep and win this game!" Urd_Not cries.

"Let's do it!" I shout, actually getting into this too. Video games are cool.

I follow my group as we start running toward the keep, a straight shot and just a short distance away, L33tsKillz leading the way.

A few stray orcs pop up now and then but we cut through them with ease as we head towards the keep. We reach the top of the hill and stand before the massive doors to the white granite keep.

"Did we win?" I ask as we get to the doors, a little out of breath.

"The fuck?" L33tsKillz says sarcastically. "Of course we haven't won yet! We have to beat the final boss and break the king's chains and then we win. But I don't know what the boss is so I guess we'll find out!"

"Hold it!" I hear somebody with an insanely deep voice shout.

The group turns towards the newcomer and they gasp but I just frown. The new comer is a tall and somewhat thin human in sinister black armor adorned with spikes and skulls. All the skulls on his armor, on his chest, shoulders, forearms, knees, and on his helmet, have horns and their eyes and mouths contain flames. He has a large single edged black battle axe in both hands with, you guessed it, a flaming horned skill to adorn the back.

There is a name floating above his head and it reads DracoRomar11.

"Who's this guy?" I mumble to Fr1nge who stands next to me.

"That's DracoRomar11." He says. Yeah no shit. "He's the best player in this game. He's rumored to be a famous hacker too."

Well, it only makes sense for Escape18 to use a different screen name from his hacker name. Draco approaches the group.

"You guys kicked ass at the orc barricade, I took the easier route, through the dungeons." Draco says his voice crazy deep, probably a voice modifier. "But I thought we could tackle the boss together. The boss just got updated and I haven't fought it yet but I heard he's like, 50 times harder."

"Totally!" L33tsKillz exclaims. "We'd love to have you on board!"

Draco nods. "Awesome, here's the thing though, I usually only join parties if I'm the leader."

"Oh, uh alright." L33tsKillz says. "Uh, there you go, just accept the team leader role and you're good to go."

"Good to go." Draco responds. "Awesome. So let's get on in there. I don't know what's waiting for us so we shouldn't try to strategize right away."

Urd_Not pushes the huge doors open and leads the way through into the massive room. Directly across from us, at least a football field away under a conveniently placed column of sunlight is a throne with an elderly mean chained to it with gold chains. On either side of us are columns and beyond that darkness. The column of light over the throne is the only light. The party enters the cathedral-like throne room and the massive door closes behind us.

This is foreboding and tense.

Suddenly there's a low moaning noise and a massive hand wraps around the furthest column on the right. A giant, as tall as the columns themselves steps out of the shadows. He's dressed in only a loincloth but he's thick with muscles and his head is protected by a large metal mask. In his right hand he has a gigantic cleaver.

Shit…

"It's just an ogre." L33tsKillz mumbles. "That's weird. I mean, they're tough but the six of us shouldn't have a hard time…"

There is another loan drawing moan and from the shadows on the left comes another ogre identical to the first but with a huge morning star mace in his hands.

"Okay that's a bit more complicated." L33tsKillz says.

"What the shit?" Draco says. "This is bullshit they were supposed to update the final boss. They've had the stupid ogre twins for weeks now!"

Suddenly the domed ceiling explodes into white dust and light pours through. A humongous lizard-like head as big as the ogre's torso comes down into the throne room and chomps down onto one of the ogres and it retreats, the ogre roaring. There is a booming roar that deafens us.

"WHOA!" Draco roars in delight. "This is fucking awesome! Look at this! These effects! Oh man!"

The other ogre turns around roaring into the hole in the ceiling. There is suddenly a dull light that steadily grows brighter on our right. We all look towards the tall stained glass windows glowing with red, yellow and orange light, quickly getting brighter and brighter. The windows explodes suddenly fire shooting through them and leaving huge walls of fire in line with the windows. Thankfully we're standing where we're situated between two walls of flame the heat is so intense but I see that the ogre got caught in one of the walls of fire. Suddenly the right wall explodes and a huge red mass flashes through and swipes the second ogre away, the flames dying shortly thereafter, scorch marks covering the floor.

"Fuck! Yes!" Draco roars with laughter. "Fuck those ogre twins!"

The red dragon lands in the throne room, its mass filling the room. Horns as long as trains protrude back from its massive head. Its frighteningly human-like hands end in sinister black claws that could skewer about ten cars at least. Its tail as long its entire length from the tip of its nose to the base of its tail wraps around the throne in the distance and the king looks up at us.

"Listen guys, we don't actually have to kill this thing." Fr1nge says quietly as the dragon regards the six of us with eyes that must be the same diameter as a helicopter's blades. "If one of us just breaks the chains, we win."

"Fuck that!" Draco says walking forwards towards the dragon, his axe in his hands. "That's no fun!"

I look at the other guys in the party. "I don't know what he's going to do but here's what I'm thinking: Urd_Not and L33tsKillz will stay low go for its legs. I can climb him and find a weak spot while N0Mad and Fr1nge shoot for his head but STAY out of his eyesight. He might blast fire any time now!"

L33tsKillz nods but gestures towards Draco. "That sounds good but-"

"HEEEYAH!" Draco roars as he brings his axe down with both hands on the dragon's toe. It roars in pain, shooting flames into the sky.

"Goddammit!" I shout. "Let's go guys!"

I charge forward as the dragon starts slashing with its claws, trying to get Draco who rolls and sprints out of the way. I reach the dragon quickly ducking under its massive arm as it swings again. I notice its elbow is near me so I stab into it with my sword, its tough hide making it a shallow cut.

The dragon roars again and moves its arm, my sword getting thrown from my grasp and out of the dragon's arm to skid across the ground. I rush to retrieve it but something massive, it feels like a locomotive hits me in the back and sends me flying across the room to smash into the remnant of a column.

I grunt and groan as I get to my feet, look up at the dragon as it roars, arrows and spells flying at it. Urd_Not is pinned under his own shield which is held on top of him by one of the dragon's back legs. Draco is trapped in the dragon's left hand and L33tsKillz is rushing to help Urd_Not.

I get back to my feet and rush to my sword, diving for it as I reach it. Not really sure why I dove but I did anyways. I charge the dragon's back leg and L33tsKillz reaches it at the same time as me.

"I'm trapped under this toe!" Urd_Not yells sounding like he can barely breathe.

"I'll cut first you finish it off!" L33tsKillz roars over the noise, ditching his shield and taking his sword in both hands.

I nod doing the same with my significantly larger weapon.

L33tsKillz hacks down with his sword cleaving in deep with his sword before he yanks it out, stumbling back. The dragon roars in pain and I feel it drop down to all fours but I don't waste time and roar as I hack down feeling my sword hit something solid, I'm guessing bone. The dragon lifts its foot off of the ground but I hold on as I'm shaken violently. I reach up and hook my fingers under a scale as he shakes his leg. Finally his shaking slows and I rip my blade out of his toe with all my might. I put the sword in a sheath on my back and start climbing his leg as the others continue their practically futile attack on the dragon.

It takes me a while but I make it up to his back and start running up his back along his spine which has four foot tall spikes sticking out of it. Once I reach his neck I look up towards his head, a good 60 to 80 feet up and mentally prepare myself to climb up the spikes to get to his head. I'm going to try and blind him. Or maybe cut his brain or something. Either or. Hopefully the latter. But I'm going to give blinding him a shot.

I start climbing. His spines are spaced far enough apart that I have to stand on each one just to reach the next one. I nearly fall at least ten times by the time I'm halfway up his neck. Suddenly the dragon howls with pain and rears up onto his hind legs. I can't see what's going on, just hold on for dear life as the dragon roars deafeningly and stands on its hind legs. Whatever happened, it hurt the dragon.

As the dragon's roar comes to a finish and it drops back to all fours with earth shaking force I hear Draco roaring, "The heart! Go for its heart!"

I continue climbing, I'm nowhere near its heart, I'll just continue my current self-assigned job. I continue climbing as the dragon tries to stomp out the insects attacking it. I finally reach the base of its head, between its ears and I take a little break leaning against the back of its head with my arm wrapped around the spike above me. I take a deep breath and climb up on top of its head and only then does it start to notice me.

It starts shaking its head violently and I'm thrashed about while I hold onto the last spike on top of its head with dear life. Its head shaking slows down and I know that this is my chance. Holding onto the spike with my legs I draw my sword and let the momentum of the dragon's slowed headshaking to slide down to its brow ridge. I catch myself on the edge of its brow with one hand and waste no time, stabbing into its massive eye with my sword.

It roars and its head drops low to the ground, the force of which makes my grip on its brow slip and all my weight to go onto my sword, really just worsening the situation for the now one eyed dragon.

"Yeah!" I hear someone shout and I look down at Draco. "That's right, blind that fucker! Way to go Guest18!"

I realize that I'm now close enough to the ground to survive the drop with maybe sore ankles but I react too late at the dragon rears up again standing full height.

"WHHOOOOOAAA!" I shout as I'm launched into the sky, my hands still wrapped around my sword embedded in the dragon's eye. The dragon is tall enough that half its torso sticks out of the top of the throne room so I'm a good 150 or 180 feet up in the air above the cathedral right now.

Suddenly I feel an extreme vibration and a rush of air and I look down to see the dragon flap its wings. Oh shit. It's flying, with me stuck on it. It starts soaring up into the air and it flaps high and high, each wing beat jolting me up and down. But I'm not letting go, no sir. Suddenly the dragon banks around and dives for the cathedral. Its mouth opens and a jet of flame bursts from its mouth, large enough to engulf the cathedral entirely. Oh no! It'll kill the king with its flames and we'll lose!

With all my might I pull myself up back on top of its head and grab a hold onto some scales as I fight against his eye muscles to get my sword out of its eye. I manage to free it, blood spraying violently out and the dragon roars, its flames halted as it arcs back up into the air to make another pass, this one foiled. I try to hold on as it starts beating its wings again but the movements of the dragon prove too strong and I lose my grip flying back off of its head. I scream but hit its wings as I fly back making me flip mid-air. I manage to get a hold of its wing as it starts to bank and dive toward the cathedral again, dragon flames bursting from its maw once more.

Hell, I got two more lives right? I reach back and stab my sword into the thin membrane of its wing and let go of the edge of the wing, grabbing hold with both my hands. The dragon roars as the membrane on the largest part of its wing is ripped in half and its flight starts to fail. I meanwhile manage to grab a hold of the torn wing, having to let go of my sword to do so.

The dragon slams into the mountainside, just below the cathedral wall. The force of the collision is enough to launch me at the wall which I slam into but manage to grab just barely. I think it's a natural talent: grabbing shit instinctively. It's a lifesaving skill, that much is true.

One of my hands slips on the weak wall and falls but I look down at the dragon as it falls and falls down before it crashes onto the ground below unmoving.

I grunt as I reach up and grab the edge of the wall and I pull myself up, rolling onto solid ground, breathing heavily.

Suddenly as I open my eyes once more I notice my vision is dark and there is a simple word across my vision: Victory.

I remove my VR helmet and blink repeatedly, smoothing my hair back. I remove my harness and put it on the ground. Was that a success? I step out of the VR room and look up and down the hall and spot a group of people at the end of the hall exiting a room marked Members Only.

They spot me and the human of the group points and they run towards me. They smash into me taking me to the ground but they promptly help me up.

"Sorry about that but dude!" The human, a stout fellow with bouncy brown hair and pale eyes exclaims. "You. Kicked. Ass!"

I look at the group. A human, a krogan, a turian and… a robot? The robot is lithe, with curves… Oh! It's my party!

"Hey man, I'm Michael, or just Mike to my friends." The human, Michael, says. "Or you might know me as L33tsKillz, we just played together right? You're Guest18?"

I nod. "Yeah… Uh, hi it's nice to meet you guys. I'm Jack."

"You fucked that dragon up, man." The turian says. "You can call me Mez, alright?"

"And I'm Khel Turok." The krogan says. "You ever need some muscle on your side, I got you. I used to be a bouncer but the place I worked for closed down on account of drug racketeering. You'd think that the guy who guarded the door to the drug labs would know about the drug labs right? Not me, I wasn't trusted with shit. I just kept drunks from going through the door."

Is this the krogan who guarded the door to the drug labs at the Corner Club? Small world. I hope he's being honest with me. I might have to kill him later if he isn't. Drugs are bad.

Mike nudges Khel Turok on the arm and grins at him. "He's probably not going to need muscle, dude. I don't know why you keep offering that to people."

"And I'm Shael' Rue nar Merah." The robot girl says with an incredibly feminine normal voice. I'm going to shoot a guess and say she's not a robot. "You're one hell of a simmer, Jack was it?"

I nod.

"Listen buddy, you're one of the best simmers I've ever seen!" Michael exclaims. "You even put DracoRomar11 to shame! That's crazy bro! You need to go pro!"

I scoff and wave off the idea. "No way, buddy. I'm not into this whole gaming thing."

"Well, you should be." Mez says. "You're good. If you ever want to play again, you should give us a call."

They all nod in agreement and we exchange contact information. I mean, I'm probably not going to play with them again, but I mean it won't turn down some potential friends/allies. Just as we finish doing this, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I turn to look at the goth asari receptionist who steps around me and stands on her tip toes, her hand next to her mouth as if she wants to whisper something in my ear.

I lean down so she can place her hand against the side of my head to whisper whatever it is she wants to whisper. But she just licks my ear instead, bumping her tongue piercing against my earlobe as the tip of her tongue plunges into my ear hole. I cringe involuntarily as she pulls back and looks at me.

I look at the group staring at me and I smile at them. "Listen guys that was great fun but will you guys excuse me? I've got some business to take care of."

They nod and let me go as I follow the strange goth asari. She leads me just around the corner and looks at me.

"What?" I ask her, shrugging.

"DracoRomar11 is very impressed with your performance." She says with a knowing smile.

A strange realization pops into my head. "Are you…?"

"No, I'm not DracoRomar11." She says with a shrug. "And if you're curious, no I'm not Escape18 either. Draco, he's very impressed with you and he told me to find out what you want."

"I'm here illegally. I need documentation and to get into the system." I respond.

The goth asari raises her pierced brows and loses the smile, seemingly displeased with my mediocre request. "Oh, that's easy."

She raises her omni-tool and it flashes in my face and I blink in shock.

"Did you just take my picture?" I ask, blinking.

She nods. "Yeah, for the ID. And the name you want on it?"

"Jack Alderman." I respond.

"And your real name?" She asks smiling again and batting her, assumedly, false eyelashes, dimple piercings making her look kind of cute despite the excessive amount of piercings she actually has. "Don't worry I won't write it down anywhere, I'd just like to know."

I blink but decide that it won't be the apocalypse to tell her my name. "Jack Carmine."

She smiles again. "Ok! That's all I need. If we could just exchange numbers, I'll call you when your new identity is ready and don't worry we've got quality assurance. It's as if you lived here your whole life."

"Very well." I respond. "And, what's your name?"

"Why do you want to know?" She asks, batting those eyelashes again. Are those fake? They look real.

I raise my eyebrow at her. "I'd just like to know."

She smiles. "Senna."

I step closer to her and she backs against the wall, my eyes locked on hers, my shadow engulfing her. I approach just a bit more and keep her hands in my peripherals. Thankfully they're both within view.

"What's your game?" I ask her. "What're you trying to do here?"

"Whatever do you mean?" She asks laughing nervously.

I glare at her and give her my well-practiced 'don't fuck with me right now' face. "You're hiding behind a mask. I can see it."

She rolls her eyes and her smiles disappears. "Fine! You caught me dick-weed. I'm playing you like I play all our clients. I'm not Escape18 I just work for him. He likes me to play the clients so we can get angles on them later, alright? Money, extortion, that kind of thing? Sorry! Now could you get the fuck out of my face?"

This fucking ruddy whore thinks she can trick me. I'm better than that. I'll show her. I don't let the fact that she's a female limit the severity of the punishment. I furrow my brow but step back and she lets out a breath but instantly my hand clasps around her throat and she gasps, her breath catching. I'm squeezing just enough so that she can barely breathe. I press her against the wall and slide her up the wall, a good foot off the ground.

"Friendly suggestion: Don't do that anymore because you might try to play somebody like me." I say, rather calmly despite the situation. "I'm not someone you want to try to play. And I'm definitely not somebody you want to tell that you played. People die when they steal, especially from me. Are you going to try and steal from me? Are you?"

She shakes her head slightly, fighting now for breath, her face a deep blue. I let her go.

"I want mine done tomorrow." I say. "I'll be here at noon to get it."

"We can't do them that fast!" She protests, gasping and clutching her throat. "It takes three days at best!"

"Well, then I guess I'll be getting disappointed tomorrow then. If I am disappointed, the consequences will be severe." I say. "Have a nice day, Senna."

**##########################################################**

**A few hours later, Senna returns to her home, a rich apartment in a rich part of the Citadel. One job completed for the day, another begins**

Senna sits down in her chair in her apartment with a sigh. She clears her throat and rubs her neck still with marks on it from where that man, Jack grabbed it. He was horribly strong. And he was dangerous. She's never met anybody as smart as he was either. Senna remembers clearly the ecstasy she felt as he squeezed the life out of her slowly, whispering threats of death in her ear, eyes like fucking steel when she looked at them and let go just before she blacked out.

Tease.

"Fuck you're messed up in the head, Senna." Senna mumbles to herself, turning to her computer. She thinks about what she should do about this situation. This Jack guy… Who is he? Jack Carmine. Needs some background checks. She honestly could get him his new identity in a day, or less even. Why lie?

"You're thinking out loud again." She hears behind her.

Senna jumps in shock and looks around at her friend in angry shock. "Dammit you scared me!"

Her friend of several years now shrugs and hops onto her bed. "Sorry, I guess. You tell that client that I liked his moves in the game? Did you watch any of the footage?"

"I did." She responds.

"You've got a boner for him, don't you?" Her friend asks.

Senna gives him a crude look. "Fuck off, bitch."

He shrugs and looks defensive. "I've known you long enough to know what you like."

"And what's that, Draco?" She asks.

"Danger."


	5. Chapter 5: Escape 18

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUSTICE**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 5**

**ESCAPE 18**

**##########################################################**

**It's the 12****th**** of January, 2174. I'm standing in the Warehouse, my clothes, my hands, my hair, everything filthy from clearing this old debris. This place is mine.**

I haven't decided on a name for this place. I was thinking the Hub but that seems like too obvious of a name. As appropriate a name as it is I don't think I should use it. I think I'll just call it the Warehouse.

I shove the last of the debris littering the yard into the chute and into the ring lift. I step away as the debris sails off and take a deep breath. Alright, all clean. I turn around leaning on the railing of the lift staring over my personal hide away. The yard is very spacious, who knows what kind of shit I could do with all this space? Maybe I could even start my own vigilante army to keep crime down. Lord knows C-Sec can't prevent the crime on the Citadel nowadays.

I lower the lift but drop off of it before it even stops moving. Impatience and whatnot getting the better of me. I brush my hands off on my pants and sigh, heading back towards the warehouse. I enter it and walk over to the makeshift table and I set up using a large square box frame with a piece of sheet metal laid on top of it. There is also a small crate that I've been using as a chair. I sit on my makeshift chair and lay a cloth on the make shift table before removing my large Maxus revolver from my waistband and placing it on the rag. I examine the revolver around and around looking for a way to open it before deciding to start by remove the heat sink first. Failing to find a way to even do that, I examine the thing a bit more and decide to just find instructions on my omni-tool. Following the instructional video I watch I dismantle my revolver and stare at the pieces neatly arranged on the cloth. Such a strange thing, all these electrical bits. What happened to the good old mechanical things?

I checked out of the hotel. It was way too expensive and now I'm down to just under 10,000 credits now. I figured that now that this placed is cleaned up nicely I can just stay here. I have mat and sleeping bag and I moved the rest of my stuff down here.

My omni-tool starts beeping telling me that I'm receiving a phone call. I touch my ear piece and answer it.

"This is Jack." I say, waiting the response.

"_Jack Carmine?" _A heavily masked voice asks. _"This is Escape18. Your package is ready."_

"Why isn't Senna the one calling me?" I ask.

"_She's preoccupied." _The voice responds. _"Come to the Rift. Go to the guest VR pod you were in two days ago. Number 18. One hour. Don't be late."_

I get up from my seat and take one of the other two revolvers rather than try and reassemble the old one. I put the revolver in my waistband, the size of it making it rather uncomfortable, no joke intended, and put my jacket on, heading out of the warehouse quickly. I jog over to the Aroch Point chute and enter to ride it up to Aroch point. Having done this enough times now that I know what to expect so I crouch low and distribute my weight as the ring lift carries me down the Aroch ward at a fantastic speed. As the lift slows to an abrupt halt I kick my feet out from underneath me and shoot out of the hatch, letting the friction of my boots make me skid to a halt as I slide out of the chute. That's right! I figured out how _not_ to be a human cannonball.

I get to my feet and brush myself off, looking at the Keeper who always seems to be here. In fact, now that I think about it, there's a Keeper near the entrance of every chute on the Citadel. Or at least the ones I've been down.

That can't be a coincidence.

But am I even going to pretend that I can solve the mystery behind that? No.

I use my omni-tool to guide me out of the alleyways and onto the streets. I close my omni-tool and make my way to the Rift quickly. I don't enter however. I'm not meeting Escape18 here. I'll be meeting a proxy probably, somebody to stand in his place.

I take a seat in a restaurant and stare out the window at the Rift, watching the people coming or going. There are only a few, but I observe all of them thoroughly. What do I know about Escape18?

Other than he has several people working for him, not much. His screen name may or may not be DracoRomar11. He's one of the best hackers on the Citadel.

That's about it.

My omni-tool starts beeping. I check the time. Still about 20 minutes early. I also notice that the phone number is different.

I answer the call.

"Jack." I say.

"_Isn't that your name?" _The heavily masked voice of Escape18 asks. _"Because that sure as hell isn't my name."_

"What do you want?" I ask. "Calling to make sure I'll be at the Rift on time? I will. Just fulfill your end of the bargain."

"_Oh I know you'll be on time." _Escape18 says. _"In fact, I know that you're about half an hour early. I've been watching you, Jack."_

I blink but stay composed and respond quickly. "Have you now?"

"_Yes, yes I have." _Escape18's voice snickers. _"I've been watching you very, closely, Mr. Carmine. You should know that it's not wise to threaten skilled hackers."_

My omni-tool suddenly changes color from orange to neon purple and an image shaken by static but seemingly intentionally so flashes by the screen, wolves chasing a man with flames in the background.

"_That's because skilled hackers can fuck up your world, Jack." _Escape18 hisses.

"Senna?" I ask, recalling my death threat to her.

"_If there's one thing hackers aren't, it's liars. We don't need to lie, Jack. It's pointless to lie. We let the systems do that for us. Hackers… Proxy, on top of proxy, on top of proxy. We're everywhere Jack. Senna is currently preoccupied at the moment, doing some reconnaissance, like I said earlier." _Escape18 says. _"I'm not happy with you. Threatening my people isn't something I take lightly."_

"How do they even fit into this?" I ask. "Senna, DracoRomar11. How do they fit into your grand scheme?"

"_They're grunts."_ He responds. _"Senna, is something of an apprentice. Very talented, I must say. She's ready to be out on her own but I don't plan on telling her that anytime soon. Draco is my number one proxy. He isn't afraid of getting his hands dirty. In fact he relishes it. He does the things I need done but are really below me. I belong behind a computer, not crawling through ventilation ducts."_

"So they're just lackeys?" I ask. "Do you pay them or do you just threaten them into working for you, scum?"

"_You should watch your tone." _Escape18 warns, sounding seriously level headed.

"Whatever." I say, shrugging off his vague threat. "I'm not scared of you. Are you going to fulfill your end of the bargain or not?"

"_That depends on whether you can afford it or not." _Escape18 says. _"My services aren't cheap."_

"Of course I…" I notice something going down on my omni-tool and watch as my bank account information comes up and my account starts draining all the way down to zero. "Can…"

"_Something wrong, Mr. Carmine?" _Escape18 asks. _"Or did your assets dry up?"_

"Wow." I say simply, not really knowing whether to be angry or not. I guess I can't be, it's my fault really getting tied in with a hacker. "I'm going to cut to the chase. It's clear you want something other than cash from me. Or in addition to money, rather."

"_If you do well, I'll return your money, and maybe add onto it. A bonus." _Escape18 says. _"In addition to giving you your new identity. I caught interest of you when my friend played with you in the game. And when I was told you threatened Senna and choked her until she saw stars, well… I knew there was something special about you. I need you to find a man named Armando Owen-Bailey. He's a C-Sec officer. Just one of the rank and file, a Patrol grunt. But he sniffs around where he shouldn't and he's following some of the more physical leads to track me down. He needs to learn that that's something he shouldn't be doing."_

"You want me to kill him?" I ask, my voicing going flat, monotone, stone-cold and stoic.

"… _Sure. Yeah, kill him." _Escape18 says. _"I was just going to have you rough him up badly but that's better, I think. This way he won't bother me at all. Yeah kill him."_

I nod slowly. "I see."

I stand and exit the restaurant and gradually break out into a sprint back to the chute to return to the warehouse. If I'm right and I usually am, I know where Senna is...

**##########################################################**

**At this very moment, Senna the hacker takes an unexpected trip through sheer darkness. Was this a trap? Did Jack know she was going to come?**

Senna screams louder as she realizes the red light illuminates a wall and she is traveling too hopelessly fast to do anything about it. Suddenly she's enveloped in a blue light and she slows and she still hits the wall with significant force but it gives swinging open and she subsequently hits two more. As she passes through the last door, light blinds her and she tumbles out of the chute onto a lift, landing on her front.

She coughs and rubs her sore knees, which took a lot of strain when her feet hit the walls. Senna clears her throat as she gets to her feet, readjusting her clothing and dusting off her pants. She does a quick body check, making sure nothing important got damaged, checking her feet, her legs, her clothing, her tits. All good, albeit dirty. She starts to take a breath as she begins to observe her surroundings but her breath catches in her throat.

"Wow…" She mumbles quietly, staring around the huge room before her with a gigantic warehouse situated in the center.

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHH!" Comes a scream from behind her before she's hit as if she were hit with a wrecking ball. She flies off of the lift and falls about ten feet to the ground, rolling very ungracefully.

She grunts and gets up from the ground, touching her nose which feels as if it's taking up her entire face and finds it's bleeding a little. She looks back and glares at the small person who crashed into her.

"Draco!" She shouts at him angrily. "You fucking dumbass! My fucking nose is broken!"

"Unknot your fucking panties!" Draco snaps back getting to his feet, brushing off his clothes. "I didn't mean to do it, goddammit. Besides why the fuck were you just standing there for?"

"I was looking around!" She says with a groan of pain. "Whatever, let's go check this place out. How did he find this place?"

"I don't know." Draco says catching up to Senna as she heads towards the warehouse. "Didn't you say that you couldn't find shit about him?"

Senna nods. "Yeah. It's like he was born yesterday. And even if he were, I'm pretty sure I could've found his birth record at the least. But nope. Nothing. There are other Jack Carmines but not the right ones. I'm thinking he's using a fake name."

"Then why would he give you another fake name for his Citadel identification?" Draco asks checking his clothes for filth but not finding any. "Jack Alderman? That doesn't make any sense to me."

"Maybe he's just really, really smart. Or maybe he's more like us. Proxies on top of proxies... " Senna suggests, looking at the broken lock to the warehouse door before stepping inside.

"Maybe." Draco mumbles following her inside. He gapes at the massive interior. "Wow! This place is humongous!"

"I know!" Senna exclaims. "Imagine what _we _could do with all this space? We could have servers, terminals, computers and enough screens to monitor half of the Citadel!"

"Oh man!" Draco exclaims in excitement running up to a conex box before spinning around and leaping for a slender support bar situated between two metal columns. He swings on it, doing one full rotation before he swings around and perches himself on top of the bar. He laughs. "Man this place is cool!"

Senna laughs at his acrobatic display. "Quit playing around and get down from there, we have to check this place out, see what we can learn about him. Make sure you leave everything the way you found it! Exactly the way you found it!"

He nods and drops down from the bar, doing a roll. "Got it."

She nods and walks over to the most notable thing she sees: A haphazardly put together table with a small crate near it. On top of the table she finds a large cloth rag with gun parts laid out neatly on it. She frowns at the weapon, not ever having seen anything similar to it. She tries to put it back together in her head but fails miserably, stumbling over her own thoughts. She leans over to the side and finds a black backpack. She picks it up and places it on her lap and looks inside and starts shuffling through the contents. She takes out a very large revolver that looks like an identical match to the dismantled one on the table. She puts the revolver down, barely able to keep a hold on it herself. She takes out another weapon but this one appears to be a pre-mass effect technology pistol of human origin most likely. She knows that all species besides the asari widely used combustion weapons before they got mass effect technology. Asari didn't only because the concept wasn't extremely popular. It was used but not used widely. Biotics were more useful in the grand scheme of things when it came to warfare and diplomacy was used more commonly over war in Asari history.

Senna examines the old weapon very closely she finds a button and presses it, the gun's magazine shooting out the bottom once she does. She takes it and looks at it carefully. She takes a bullet out and looks at that as well. Rather fascinating. She's only seen things like this in the vids about human history. No other species has anything like this really.

"What's that?" Draco asks appearing behind her.

Senna jumps in surprise. "Fuck, Draco. You need to stop sneaking up on me like that."

"Sorry." Draco says sounding at least mostly genuine. "Can't help it."

"Whatever, anyways." Senna mumbles turning the ancient gun over in her hand. "It's an ancient combustion based weapon, entirely mechanical."

"Like… bullets and gunpowder and shit?" Draco asks. "Can I see?"

Senna shakes her head. "No, I was just looking at it. I'm going to put it back."

"I'm just going to look at it too!" Draco protests, reaching for the gun. "It doesn't have a clip in it, it's ok."

"Mmm." Senna thinks out loud but hands the gun over to Draco, sans magazine. "Alright, just be careful with it."

Draco takes it in both his hands and looks at it awestruck. "Wow… This thing is really old but it's been maintained very well. It's like new."

"I know." Senna says, agreeing with him.

"It must be worth a fortune." Draco mumbles as he flicks a switch up and down.

"I'd say it's worth at least 25,000 credits in this condition. If it was like new, it'd definitely be worth at least twice, maybe three times as much…" Senna frowns as Draco puts his finger in the trigger well as he examines the weapon. "Wait!"

Her warning came too late and Draco pulls the trigger, firing the gun and jumping as the gun retorts, the gun flying out of his hand and the sound of ricocheting bouncing around the room.

Senna and Draco both duck and after the ricocheting dies quickly, Senna slaps Draco over the head very hard. "You fucking stupid shit!"

"Sorry!" Draco shouts in protest as Senna hits him a few more times. "It didn't have a clip in it, I thought it didn't have any bullets!"

"Fucking stupid piece of shit." Senna growls. "Now he'll know somebody was here!"

"He might not." Draco says, playing devil's advocate.

"He will. I'm sure of it." Senna says, thinking. "He's smart. I can tell. Too smart."

Draco hands the weapon back to Senna who puts the magazine back in it and puts it away in the backpack along with the huge revolver. "Let's keep looking."

Senna gets to her feet, leaving the backpack in the spot it was in before and walks over to a sleeping sleeping mat with a sleeping bag unrolled on it. Near to the sleeping bag is a duffel bag. Senna opens the bag and starts sifting through it. Mostly clothes folded very neatly. Some toiletries and hygiene things. But she feels something at the bottom and pulls it out... What is this?

"Draco do you know what this is?" Senna asks frowning at the folded leather thing in her hand.

Draco walks over and smirks. "That's a wallet."

"What's a wallet?" Senna asks unfolded it and frowning at the contents. "What are all these things?"

Draco shrugs and takes the wallet. "Wallets were used by humans for like a thousand years to hold things like our identification or our money or other things like that. We stopped using them when credits become more of a thing and they became more compact. This one is like _super _old. And it's got all old stuff in it. Check it out. This is american money that was used like... a thousand years ago. This is a credit card, sort of like a credit chit in a way. This is an old ID... but it's not Jack's. And oh check it out, there's a picture fold here."

Draco unravels a long sheet of folded plastic and looks at them quizzically before handing it over to Senna.

Senna takes it and examines it. Just pictures. Old pictures. There's a picture of a man and a woman with a baby, another picture of a different couple and a different baby, some landscapes and... a picture of Jack sitting on his haunches on a rock with an old combustion assault rifle in his hands, staring at something out of frame, wearing some baggy pants, a vest with a lot of pouches, a beanie and looking really dirty. There's another picture, a rather disturbing one of Jack again, kneeling on the ground, his face beaten and bloody and his body covered with injuries and with a man in a coat standing behind him, holding his hair with a bright shining machete to his throat.

Senna, somewhat disturbed goes to close the wallet but in her handling of it, a piece of paper sticks out. Senna opens it again and takes out the paper. She unfolds it and frowns at it. Just some words written in big, looping barely legible handwriting.

_White Lakeside._

_Veronica, nope._

_Burn when found!_

Senna puts the wallet away where she found it and keeps looking, finding a strange device buried beneath the clothing. It's boxy and black.

"Draco?" Senna asks holding up the device.

Draco smirks again. "Why the fuck does this guy have all this old junk? That's a tape recorder. Press that button with the sideways triangle."

Senna looks and presses the button. The device clicks and starts playing audio.

Jack's voice comes through, but he sounds really, really different.

_"Okay, so this is Jack Carmine. Um... I don't uh... Well, John said I should try this. He said it's hard for us sometimes and this helps so... Yeah. Well... It's been... I guess about three months since I left home. I'm kind of just looking. I met... Why am I saying this stuff? Shouldn't I say my thoughts? I mean I know what happened... Okay well... I want to die. I don't want this... ... ... ... ... It's October and I just found this old thing and I don't know why I'm doing this. I don't know why I'm doing any of this... I just want everything to be over... ... ... ... ... It's... I don't know when it is. I'm giving up. Isn't it fucking bullshit I'm actually giving up on suicide? Fuck I don't think there's been a rock bottom lower than this... ... ... ..." _For the next few seconds there's just sobbing and unintelligible speech. _"So... Came across a bandit trying to steal from this family. I killed him. Saved them... It felt good. I found the rest of his bandit buddies and I killed them too. I killed them all... ... ... ... ... ..." _The next entry is strange because Jack's voice is dramatically different, more like it is now. _"Been a long time since I used this. Lot's different. I'm doing right by the world now. Won't ever be done. That's okay. I don't know how many people I'll have to kill to be done, but I'll kill them all if it means finishing... ... ... ... ... Found a way to finish it once and for all. I'm almost done. Almost gone."_

The device clicks again and the sound stops.

"That was fucking creepy." Draco says cringing. "Put that shit away."

Senna replaces the recorder and gets to her feet.

They both suddenly hear a noise outside and both of them freeze. The door to the warehouse bursts open and Jack strides in, gigantic revolver in hand and hanging lazily at his side.

"Fuck!" Draco shouts in alarm.

Senna dives for the backpack reaches into it fumbling for the revolver inside.

There's a noise like a thunderclap and then two more as the ground near Senna erupts and shoots concrete shards in all directions.

"Okay! Okay!" Senna shouts, dropping the backpack and holding up her hands. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Jack walks up to the both of them with his revolver still pointed at them, a quizzical expression on his face.

**##########################################################**

**. . . . . .**

I stare at the two of them, Senna the goth asari and a human child I don't recognize.

"How old are you?" I ask the kid.

He looks at me, still cowering. "11."

"Draco?" I ask.

He nods.

"DracoRomar11." I say. "Not very original."

"Listen, I'm sorry we're here." Senna says. "We'll go right now!"

"I don't think so." I respond. "You're not going to go anywhere. You're going to talk to me, and I'll think about not killing you."

"Alright then… Just let him go, you can keep me here. But let him go at least. Please he's just a kid." Senna says, keeping her hands up.

I look at the kid, Draco. "A noble attempt. But I know he's hardly a kid."

"Then what the fuck do you want?" Senna hisses at me.

"Where is Escape18?" I ask, kneeling in front of her and pressing the barrel against her forehead.

She whimpers and Draco wraps his arms around my arm, trying to wrench it away from her.

"Run Senna!" He shouts, despite the fact that the gun hasn't moved. "Run!"

I sigh and shove with my elbow, throwing him back. I reach into my back pack and take out the other Maxus I have. As I reach for it I feel my hand bump Catherine, my 1911 and I feel it's hot. I frown and remove my revolver, using the barrel to open my backpack for me to look at Catherine. With a loud angry sigh out of my nose. I switch off the safety on the revolver and put that one to her head, holding it in my left hand while I point the other one at Draco, on the ground a few feet away.

"Which one of you shot Catherine? She's very old you know. Now I've only got fourteen bullets for her left." I say before turning my attention back to Senna. "I'll ask one more time: Where is Escape18?"

Senna gulps. "Why what are you going to do to him?"

"To be completely honest, I'm going to kill him." I say. "He asked me to kill somebody for him. A C-Sec officer. I'm not going to do that, so I'm just going to kill him and if you don't tell me where he is, I'll kill you too. Both of you."

Senna looks at me dead in the eyes. "He's at the Rift. He's in the server room."

"Are you lying to me?" I ask, coolly. "If you are… well. Do I really need to repeat myself?"

"I'm…" She looks away from me. "He's at his hideout… it's underneath Dommar's Bar."

"Thank you for being honest with me." I say, standing and stepping away from her. "Now, on your feet, both of you."

They stand, my weapons still pointed at the two of them. I lead them over to one of the conex boxes and open it.

"Inside." I say.

They walk inside and I shut the doors, locking them as well. I then walk around to the side and shoot some air holes through the upper corners for them to breathe. I hear them shout in alarm at the noise. That'll do nicely I think.

Just in case, I climb on top and look into one of the holes. "Can you two breathe?"

"Yes." Senna responds.

"Good, see you in a short while." I say, hoping back off of the conex box.

I put the revolvers in my waistband and head back outside, using my omni-tool to find the location of this Dommar's Bar. Central Zakera.

I head over to the lift and ride it up to the Zakera Ward, sliding out of the chute and into the alleyway. I quickly exit and utilize my omni-tool to help me find my way through the streets to Dommar's Bar.

"Jack?" I hear someone say loudly. "Jack!"

I turn to look at who is calling to me and see a turian headed my way. Oh it's the turian I met a few days ago, Mez, I believe his name was.

"Hey!" He says happily grinning at me. "Hey man, how's it been?"

I shrug. "Not much has changed in the last two days. I'm getting my new place squared away."

"New place huh?" He grins. "So thinking about sticking around the Citadel?"

I shrug again. "That's the plan. What've you been up to?"

"Me?" He shrugs. "I just got off work."

"What do you do?" I ask him, knowing that I shouldn't egg on the conversation but in my experience I find that the best way to end a conversation is to lead it somewhere.

"Oh, I work in real estate." He says. When I frown in confusion at him he grins apologetically. "Oh sorry. I uh… I basically deal in homes and businesses. I'm a real estate agent of some prestige so I not only buy, renovate and sell homes and businesses for profit but I also deal vacant spaces to willing buyers. If I'd known you were looking for a home, I would've set you up with a great deal."

Realizing that I've been presented an opportunity I nod. "Well to be honest the place I just got is a wreck and I was only planning on living there temporarily."

"See?" Mez says with a grin. "I'm always telling my clients that if you don't buy from the best then you're settling for less. Like I said earlier buddy, if you got an even flow of credits, I can set you up with a great place in your price range, no problem. So… listen, I was going to meet up with the gang for drinks in about a half hour, do you want to come too? I'm sure they'd love to have you there as well."

"Gang?" I ask.

"Oh, the guys you met the other day at the Rift?" Mez says.

I nod, remembering. "Oh yes, them. Uh… Hm… I'm sort of busy right now and I don't know if I'll be free in half an hour… How long are you guys going to be there?"

He shrugs. "Probably a couple of hours, if you free up your night just stop on by, we'd love to have you. We'll be at Termia Lounge."

"Alright, if I've got time I'll stop by." I say, being sincere. "Take care, Mez."

"You too buddy." Mez says, walking away looking pleased with his social interaction with me.

I continue on my way to Dommar's Bar. I'm still a ways away but I notice that I'm heading into a seedier part of the Wards. I see prostitutes, or what I believe are prostitutes standing outside of buildings with dark windows, wearing provocative clothing. I see groups of people just loitering in random places.

I get glances and stares as I walk along. Obviously I don't belong here. Hm... Based on the area, I may need to bribe some people, but I'm flat broke at the moment. Need to appropriate some money. I stop walking and look around and see a pair of guys eyeing me at the mouth of an alleyway. I glare at them and they start walking towards me. I start walking towards them and when they get in my way and start talking I shove past them and walk into the alleyway. I keep walking, my fists clenched until one of them puts his hand on my shoulder. I whip around, slamming my elbow into his skull. His partner, a turian, moves in and stabs me in the back several times with a kitchen knife. I grunt and catch his wrist after a few stabs. I spin around, twisting his arm and slam my foot into his knee, hearing a crack and I bend his arm back, stabbing him in the eye with his own knife. He screams and scrambles back and I leap forward at him, slamming my palm into the base of the knife, driving it into his skull. I turn around and slam my foot against the first thug's head. I kick him again, slamming his head into the wall. With a grunt I slam my foot into the side of his head again, smashing his head against the wall. I search them quickly and take the money they have on them, breathing out from my nose.

I find Dommar's Bar, at the end of a dark street. A small sign is all that indicates it's my destination and I enter. The interior is poorly lit with the bar on my right with tables and booths on my left. The main source of lighting is from the bar, stale white lights shining down over the counters.

The lone bartender is an angry looking turian with scars and no shirt, just an apron and pants. The bar, despite the neighborhood, ambience and décor is rather crowded with most of the tables occupying people and a fair number of individuals sitting at the bar. I head over to the bar and take a seat myself. The bartender heads over to me after he finishes pouring one guy his drink.

"What're you looking for?" He asks, his voice like a gravel driveway.

"Excuse me?" I ask him, not entirely catching his drift.

"Are you looking for booze, tits or trouble?" He asks, staring at me. "Or all of the above?

"I'm looking for Escape18." I reply to which he leans back from me, standing up straight. "Is he here?"

"How did you know where he was?" He asks, sounding suspicious. "Are you a cop?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm just a guy."

"A guy?" The bartender asks.

I nod, pushing a few credit chits towards him. "A client."

He regards me for a while longer before grumbling, taking the money, and nodding at a door on the other side of the room. I nod at him and take my leave heading towards the doorway. People watch me as I go. I see aliens with scars, macabre tattoos of hash marks or tear drops or bullets or skulls. I see men concealing weapons poorly and men concealing weapons well, and people not concealing their weapons at all, leaving them on the table for all to see. This is a bar of killers.

There will be many deaths tonight.

I walk through the door and shut it behind me. The door leads immediately to a stairwell. A sterile white light hangs above my head and illuminates my area. The stairwell is dark, but at the bottom I can see flickering bluish light. Like from an electronic screen.

I walk down the cold metal stairs slowly, my hand reaching around my back to one of my revolvers. I draw it as I descend and switch off the safety. I enter the room and look to my right hearing the most noise from there. Releasing a dull humming are rows and rows of electronics in cages. I think they're servers. There are 3 rows of servers as tall as the ceiling and there are many cords and wires running from them. I feel a humid heat wafting at me from them, but otherwise the basement is diabolically cold.

I look then to my left and see a desk that takes up most of the wall with large monitors arranged all around it and up to the ceiling. Escape18 is well supplied, that's for sure. I see someone typing away at a keyboard as he stares into the screen.

I walk up to him my grip tightening on my revolver, my footsteps are silent on the ground. Once I'm directly behind him I raise my revolver and level it with the back of his head. I expect him to turn around but apparently situational awareness of the real world doesn't apply to him.

"Escape18." I say.

He jumps in surprise and looks over his shoulder at me. He frowns and turns his chair around backing it into his desk, his hands on his lap.

He's a turian with light skin. He's very tall but awkwardly thin for a turian. His eyes are very large and dark and he looks at me with curious interest.

"You're good, Jack Carmine. Just as good as I though you were." He says, his voice sounding strange, nasally and slightly falsetto without the voice changer. "So what now?"

I ponder the question and look around to find another chair nearby. I walk over and retrieve it, bringing it back to Escape18. I put it down and sit in it, watching him, my revolver resting on my thigh, still pointed at him, but with less zeal.

"What now?" I repeat his question. "Well first, I must ask you two questions. First, you asked me to kill one, Armando Owen Bailey. Who is he? Has he killed anyone?"

"Weird questions to ask me but fine." He relents shrugging and raising his hands in defeat. "Bailey is a fairly green C-Sec officer. Only a few months on the force now. He's a patrol officer. He's not supposed to do much more than meander the streets and prevent crimes where they happen. Or rather, considering how bad the Citadel is nowadays, he meanders around trying to keep up with all the crime going on. Instead he's been following leads on people I set up with visas and new identities so they could stay here on the Citadel. He illegally interrogates them without taking them into custody, sometimes going above and beyond his call of duty, brutalizing them to tell them more about me. He's getting too close to finding me now, the only thing holding him back really is his rank. Once he finds some significant information and evidence he'll have me. And I'm good, I cover my tracks well, but somewhere there's something out there, some little shred of evidence that ties his case together, I'm sure of it. So I needed him dead or gone."

I consider his response. Violent interrogations? Sounds like a dirty cop.

"Alright." I respond nodding. "So he's looking for you. Let's talk about you. Have you ever killed anybody?"

"What?" He asks frowning. "What does that have to do with anything? What is it you want?"

"I want to know if you've ever killed anybody." I say, readjusting my seat.

There's a long stretch of silence. "Listen if it's fucking money you want, your ID? Here take it. All you fucking credits and your visas and IDs."

My omni-tool opens up and alerts me of a data transfer as well as a credit influx of about 20,000 credits. Twice as much as he took from me. I look back up at him. Didn't even need to ask.

"There." Escape18 says throwing his hands up. "Now leave! Forget the job, forget Bailey, and forget it all. Just leave, and forget about it all. I won't bug you, you won't bug me. We're square."

I stand up and move my chair to the side but stay where I am otherwise. I raise my revolver and put it close to his head.

His eyes widen even larger. "O-Okay. Listen… What…? You want more credits? I can give you more credits. Here." He holds a credit chit out at me but I don't take it. He gulps loudly. "I-I... I'm... Um..."

"Have you ever killed anyone, Escape18?" I ask, my voice quiet. "Taken a life? Snuffed out a light that otherwise didn't deserve darkness? What have you done? Where is your guilt buried?"

He blinks at me. "W-What's your problem?"

"Have you ever killed anyone?" I ask pushing the barrel against his forehead.

"Fuck!" He cringes. "Fuck! Okay! Okay! I'll just answer your stupid question if you get that fucking gigantic gun out of my fucking face! Shit!"

I press the barrel harder into his face. "Who have you killed? Who's died because of you?"

"Fine! I have! Okay?" He says, his eyes opening, staring at me fearfully. "I may not have been the one to pull the trigger every time but I've killed people. Okay? Now leave, you fucking maniac!"

I pull the trigger, his head snaps back and hits his keyboard now covered with blood, gore and pieces of skull. I step away. So much to do, so little time. I check the time. If I hurry I might be able to meet Mez and the others at that lounge. Let's hope the rest of this goes smoothly.

"What was that? Was that a gunshot?" I hear someone shout as footsteps head down the stairs. "Hey! Are you alright?! Are-"

I interrupt the armed bartender as he reaches the bottom of the steps by leveling my revolver with him. He freezes but his arms move to aim his weapon at me and I pull the trigger twice, making him stumble back towards the servers, blood squirting from his chest. Two more people come down the stairs and I shoot them both once, hitting them both in the upper torso, making them stumble and fall into a pile at the bottom of the stairs. I swap revolvers and kneel next to Escape18. I pat him down for a second, frisking him for anything interesting, finding a credit chit with a few hundred credits on it. I take the credit chit he held out to me as well, this one holding 5,000 credits. I also take his omni-tool, deciding it might be better than mine is or might contain something interesting.

I then stride over to one of the dead men and check them for something of interest and notice one of their guns. It looks vaguely like a stockless shotgun I pick it up and examine it for a second when a shout of alarm from above alerts me. I dive backwards and away from the stair well, just in time as several rounds rip into the corpses at the bottom of the stairs. I settle into a seated position and shoot the shin of the person coming down next with my revolver. They shout out in pain and alarm, their leg severing in half and begin to topple down the stairs. I shoot him a few times in the chest and head.

I get back to my feet and put my revolver away looking at the shotgun. I work the pump but it doesn't really seem to do anything. I aim the shotgun and shoot it, feeling surprisingly little kick for a shotgun so short and without a stock. I definitely shouldn't put my face close to the thing but it's perfect for close quarters and quick shots. I pull the trigger again and it lets off another round. Then what the fuck is the pump for?

I work the pump back and hot air shoots out of the sides of the barrel, nearly burning my hand from the heat it produces alone. So does it help cool the weapon if I work the pump after every shot? The weapons of this era confuse and fascinate me both. They have seemingly infinite ammo and can fire indefinitely as long as you let the weapon cool between shots for a second or in the case of a fast firing weapon, fire in bursts. But I don't have a fast firing weapon so I guess I'll have to extra careful to manage my shots.

Or fuck that shit and we can just go absolutely gung ho and tear ass through these mother fuckers.

That sounds better. I hear quite a commotion above. No doubt my actions down here have sparked some kind of bar brawl up above.

I hurry up the stairs and peek open the door, the noise of a gun fight nearly deafening me as it opens. The patrons of the bar are running absolutely rampant, shooting at each other with reckless abandon, tackling each other and charging all about the room. It seems like a total free for all, everybody is in it for themselves, clearly.

Let's go then!

I rush into the room after choosing the nearest cover, an upturned table with someone already behind it. I blast his head off with my shotgun and duck behind the cover. Rounds hit the table every once in a while, but it looks like for the most part that I'm not the target. I see someone making a run for cover nearby so I pop out of cover as he passes and shoot him from a few meters away with my shotgun, causing him to stumble and fall.

Suddenly I see a krogan charging at me. I aim my shotgun at the raging krogan and shoot him directly in the head when he's but a few meters away, and despite the damage I caused, he doesn't stop and appears to be only angrier.

He rams into the table and lifts it off of the ground, me with it and slams me into the wall, pinning me there with the table. The attack was bone shattering but thankfully I don't think I broke anything but he definitely bruised me something fierce. I ram the barrel of my shotgun in his ruined head plate and blast again, killing him instantly. He topples forward and to the side and I stumble as I try to regain my footing. A round rips through my thigh.

"Ow!" I shout in pain, dropping to a knee, looking up at where the shot came from.

And I look up at a person approaching with a handgun. I raise my shotgun and another round hits my shoulder but I curse and fire anyways and he stumbles back, blood flying out of his torso.

I chuck my shotgun to the side and grunt as I stand, fighting through the pain. I start growling and I draw both my revolvers akimbo and decide that I have had quiet enough of this and it's time that this is over with.

I feel my neck get stiff and hear metal slugs hitting the ground as my body pushes the bullets out of my wounds before they close up.

A turian sees me standing there with my guns in hand and he turns to me pistol ready. He walks towards me and fires off three rounds.

They all hit me in the chest and make me take a step back but I growl and he finishes off his weapon, belting out another five shots. All except one take me in the torso. The last shot actually hits me in the left side of my forehead and my head is thrown back and to the side. But my dense ass skull took the hit from his low power handgun.

I slowly look back towards him and feel my neck get stiff and my heart start pumping as the rounds are one by one pushed out of my body to hit the floor, making a noise sort of like marbles hitting the ground.

The turian stares at me wide eyed and I raise my revolver at him but he gets his head blown off by a salarian's shotgun blast.

"Hey!" I shout shooting the salarian three times. "He was mine!"

People start shooting at me a lot after I say that and I run left, towards the bar and I leap over it, perceiving the people behind it taking cover before I land. As I land I take aim and start firing my revolvers as I hit the ground, the large rounds punching through the enemies and taking them all to the ground. Another three criminals dead. To be honest, probably not all of these people are criminals or bad people but I'm not in any position to go person to person and interrogate them about their criminal history. I'll just assume they're not the good guys if they're shooting at me, savvy?

I take a breath letting my wounds heal for a second and I start running, making my way for the bar and bottles along the wall start exploding around me, alcohol and glass and shards of metal and who knows what else flies at me and engulfs me. I feel the shrapnel bits tearing into me but on the bright side the alcohol is sterilizing the wounds for what good it'll do. I feel a round tear straight through my right arm as I sprint for the exit but I ignore the pain. I dive as I reach the end of the bar, sailing straight over the counter, pivoting myself around to face the remaining criminals at the other end of the bar. I open fire aiming only slightly, unloading my Maxus 'fire as fast as you can' revolvers at them. I see my bullets hit but I only kill one of them with a lucky shot to the neck. He might not be dead really, just mortally wounded.

I slide as I hit the ground, expending my last few shots as my back hits the door, my slide extra lubricated by the blood and booze on the ground. There are only two people left in the bar. I drop one of my revolvers and quickly retrieve a fresh heat sink from my pocket and replace it. By the time I finish doing that the two final patrons, one with a full on assault rifle and the other with a SMG of some sort open up on me. I ignore the pain of rounds hitting me and finish with my gun aiming it at them. They approach still firing, filling me with rounds but I manage to fire off a shot and blast the one with the assault rifle in the head.

The one with the SMG flinches away as he is sprayed by blood and he just looks at me in horror. I spit some blood out and shoot him in the chest.

I wheeze and look at myself. Shit. I'm barely alive right now.

I feel my neck get pretty stiff and my body gets really hot and I grab my other revolver.

I reach up and hit the door release, stumbling out of the crazy bar. I crawl out of the bar and roll into the street. I slowly stumble to my feet as my legs start working again, rounds getting pushed out of them and I start running as quickly as I can, my wounds slowing me down a bit I think. I heal a bit slower when I get wounded this much. That was intense. So many bullets. And I'm not even going to mention when I got hailed by shattered glass and alcohol. That stung like a mother fucker! Slicing me up like a sushi roll. (By the way, I tried sushi for the first time a day or two ago and I might like it even more than steak. Oh goodness it's delicious.)

Alright focus, Jack. You're hurt and you're still in danger.

I put one of my revolvers away, the intense heat of which burns my lower back a bit. I look over my shoulder and back at the bar but nobody is pursuing me. Outstanding. I'm pretty sure that everyone's dead, but even if there are survivors, C-Sec can capture them. It isn't often that I get to deal with a legitimate law enforcement agency.

I see several blue vehicles flying down from the air towards the bar. I duck off into an alley way and take cover behind a dumpster, watching as the cars land and numerous C-Sec officers pour out, weapons in hand and armored from head to toe.

The area is silent by now and I watch as a squad of officers flow into the bar shouting orders. I hear gunshots followed by more shouting and then more gunshots and then silence. I don't know what happened. I need to leave now.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I fall backwards, revolver pointed and ready, my adrenaline surging once more. But it's a young asari. Unarmed and appearing harmless. But I've been wrong in the past.

"It's okay!" She says waving her hands. "I'm trying to help you."

I lower the revolver but keep it ready. All it'll take is a little snap of my wrist.

She lets out a breath. "Were you in that gun fight? If C-Sec finds you, you're going to be arrested. You're hurt really bad."

I lower my revolver further. "I don't need your help."

She ignores my independence. "If you can walk, follow me, I'll take you to someone who can fix you up."

She tries to help me walk but I push her away so she starts hurrying deeper into the alley. She turns back to me and beckons me on. I look back at the entrance to the alleyway before pursuing the asari.

She leads me through various alleyways for a very long while before we reach a dead end with a fairly nondescript door. She knocks on the door with a special rhythm. It must be a code to get in.

The door opens quickly and a young woman with red hair beckons us inside.

"Hurry!" She says, her accent giving away her French-Canadian descent to me instantly. "Come inside, I got your message!"

We enter and I collapse against the wall of the hallway we enter, getting left behind some. Fuck, I lost a lot of blood and it isn't replenishing fast enough. I only have a few more moments before I pass out.

"Come on!" The asari says grabbing my arm and helping me stumble on down the hallway.

She drags me into a large sterile room with beds attached to the walls and lays me down on one. I gasp in pain as the two women start cutting my clothes away to get to my wounds.

"Oh God, how many times were you shot? How can you even stand?" The red haired doctor asks as she removes my clothes. "I… What?"

"How?" The asari asks with a grimace. "You were covered in blood! Where are your wounds?"

"I hid under the bodies." I say. "I was covered in blood and would've been stopped by C-Sec anyways. I needed a way out. I need to leave now."

"No!" The human shouts pushing me back. "Don't worry, you're safe here from everyone. I'll keep you safe, alright?"

"Yeah you don't need to worry about anything." The asari says. "You're in a safe place. My name's Aranya. And this is Doctor Chloe Michel. This is her clinic, I'm just an nurse, I guess."

"You're more than that Aranya!" Dr. Michel protests.

They continue their back and forth banter and I decide that I really don't want to stick around here. Anywhere I am too long is likely to put not only myself but others in danger.

Plus… I have to meet friends for drinks.

Golly that's fun to say, even in my head.

It's been a long time since I've had friends, and even longer since I had drinks with friends. I hop off of the table, my legs buckling a little bit but I stay standing. I start walking away but they stop me again.

"Listen if you insist on leaving, at least put clothes on." Dr. Michel says moving and stopping me. "You're wearing bloody rags that are barely decent."

I look down at myself and look back up at her. "Well, do you have any clothes?"

"I have something you can wear." She says getting a simple white shirt and dark pants.

I put the clothes on, keeping my wet shoes and putting my revolvers in the waistband of my new pair of pants. It really doesn't bother me to change my clothes in front of other people. Never has really. They're medical professionals too anyways.

I make sure that I didn't get any blood on the long sleeved white shirt and  
I nod at the doctor and shake her hand as well as her nurse.

"Thank you for helping me." I say. "You help anyone who needs medical attention?"

Michel nods. "Yes, anybody who needs me, I help them."

I nod, deep in thought. "That's good. You're good people. If you two are ever in any trouble you can come find me. My name is Jack Carmine. I protect people like you, good people."

Doctor Michel looks perplexed but smiles and nods despite this. "I'll keep that in mind… Jack Carmine, right? Okay, take care Mr. Carmine."

I nod to her and her nurse and exit the clinic. Alright… Where the shit am I?

**##########################################################**

**After wandering around lost for a time, I find my way back to a chute and return to the Warehouse to finish what I need to finish. After I changed and became more merciful towards criminals, I started rooting for them. I would hope that they weren't killers so that I wouldn't have to kill them. That is the case now. Too young.**

I hit the brake doors and stumble out of the chute, collapsing against the guard rail. Fuck that hurts. Goddamn. I'm so sore.

I use the control panel and lean against it as I lower the lift to the ground, not jumping down this time for obvious reasons.

I wish painkillers still worked for me. I was addicted to painkillers for some time and I guess my body sort of built up a tolerance for them. They still work kind of but for pain to even dull for me I have to use a shit ton. Detoxing off of them was the hardest thing I've ever done I think, weeks of weakness and mental torture. I'm afraid that if I start using them too much to dull pain I'll get hooked on them again.

I enter my warehouse and walk over to my table and sit for a second. Just for a second. I sigh and lean against it holding my head in my hands. I want to sleep. But I can't yet. I take off my omni-tool and switch it with Escape18's. Yes, his is far more advanced. And it seems modified as well. I change some of the settings and upload information from my old one to this one.

I take a deep breath and walk over to the conex box I'm using as a holding cell. I open it and walk backwards from it.

"Out." I command to my two captives. They come out together slowly and I gesture over to my table. "Sit."

They sit at the table and I pull up a crate to sit a fair distance away facing their backs.

"Senna." I say.

"Yes?" She asks, looking over her shoulder at me, sweat beading down her back and neck.

"Have you ever killed anybody?" I ask.

She narrows her eyes at me. "What?"

"You lied to me earlier." I say with a sigh. "I'll be extremely generous and say that that's square. But if you lie to me again I won't hesitate to kill somebody."

She looks at me confused but her face softens. "No. I haven't killed anybody."

I stare her deep in eyes and after a long while I nod. "Alright. Now you kid. Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Fuck you." He snaps back. "I'm not telling you shit."

"Draco." Senna says. "It's okay. You can tell him."

I look between them but settle on Draco, staring at him intently.

Draco exhales through his nose. "Yes."

I lean back in my seat, covering my mouth with my hand. Goddammit. It's been at least half a century since I killed a kid for murder. This is truly a shame.

"I killed the guy who killed my mom." Draco says, looking at me. "My mom didn't do anything wrong. But she got killed. So I tried to stop him and I shot him but I was too late. So yeah. I've killed somebody. Haven't you?"

I look at him thoughtfully. "Yes. But only people who deserve it."

He shrugs. "Then what makes me any different from you?"

I stare at him a while longer before I nod. "Nothing. You're right. You two are free to go. Just don't come back here unless you need my help."

"Just like that then?" Senna asks with a frown. "What happened with Escape18?"

"I killed him." I reply.

"That was a bad idea." Draco says with a small nervous laugh.

Senna nods. "Yeah, Escape18 was under the protection of the Keyzer Cartel! They run everything on the Citadel!"

"Not for long." I say with a smile. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

"What are you going to do?" Draco asks.

I stand up from my table and look at them. "I'm going to kill them all."

Senna shrugs after a small silence. "That's it? You're just going to kill everyone? Another gang will just take their place."

"I don't think you heard me right." I say. "I'm going to kill _all _of them."

"All the gangs and cartels?" Senna asks. "All of them. Every single one."

I nod. "Yup."

"What then?" Senna asks. "You'll just leave C-Sec in charge? They're weak and corrupt. It'll be just as bad."

I smile. "Don't worry. I have a plan for that as well."

"What are you going to kill everyone in C-Sec too?" Draco asks with a scoff.

"No. Just all the corrupt ones." I respond with a small laugh.

"You're fucking crazy." Senna exclaims slightly.

"Am I?" I ask approaching them again. "Or am I just a bit overly ambitious? Waging a war while I'm outnumbered about 100,000 to one? Have you walked the streets recently? People die every night and every day because of the criminals that stalk the night. I do not accept this. I will not allow this place, this pinnacle of culture and beauty and wonder fall to evil because of weak men. I don't care if it takes me decades, I will see the Citadel be a safe place for everyone."

"Whatever, preachy asshole." Senna says standing. "I didn't like 18 anyways, he was a fuck face."

"Which reminds me he said that you were really good at what you did." I say. "That you could go solo if you wanted, but he was holding you back on purpose for his benefit."

"Did he really say that?" Senna asks rhetorically. "Hm… I'll see you around I guess."

"Bye." I say. "Don't tell people about this place."

I change and I leave the warehouse and use my omni-tool to locate Termia Lounge. I use the appropriate Aroch lift and ride it to the Aroch Ward. After exiting the chute I take a breath and attempt to compose myself.

Not going to lie, I'm sort of nervous here. I don't know why but I am.

I mean… Why should I be? Here I am, a man who has lived through just about everything the universe can throw at him, and I'm nervous about a bit of social interaction. Social interactions have been few and far between, for me especially. Not because I couldn't have them, but because that was literally the last thing on my mind. I had better things to worry about and so did everybody else. Here? It's probably the thing that people seek more than anything else these days. And that's being pushed onto me. By extension. It's not something I'm accustomed to however.

There's so much new.

Dare I say, maybe too much? My whole perspective on life has been biased and cynical. I thought I'd seen it all, experienced it all. I knew what was good and what was bad. I thought nothing could possibly surprise me.

Obviously I was wrong. I've been in this new world for only a short time, less than a month, and in that time I've experienced new thing after new thing. It's…

Scary.

But refreshing. It's like I'm a new man.

And I like it.

After walking the cold crowded streets for a short time I find Termia Lounge, a small albeit classy looking place nestled in a busy area. Some of the patrons of the bar sit around at tables outside of the main entrance, sipping drinks in their large lounge chairs. The chairs are pristine purple plush velvet and I can't help but subtly brush the back of my hand against one as I walk past. Divine. Simply divine. There's nothing like that in the wastes. Velvet doesn't do well when exposed to radiation and the elements over the course of 200 years apparently.

I enter the bar, finding it serves as not only a bar but some sort of smoke shop of sorts. People sit in deep booths of rich purple velvet with low tables in the center with tall pipes sitting on them. I believe they're hookahs? I haven't seen those since I was in Reno a couple of decades ago, although maybe I passed through there in that grey area a few years back.

The large bar itself takes up more than half of the establishment with the booths taking up the rest, but the bar contains, not only a wide variety of alcohols but also the selection of hookah that they carry. All around, an interesting place.

I notice the group I'm looking for before they notice me. They're standing around talking and laughing. I run a hand through my hair nervously before approaching.

Mez notices me approaching before the others. "Hey! Jack! Good to see you man! I told you guys he'd show up!"

They all greet me, pretty much in unison.

"Hey guys." I say awkwardly. "What're you all up to?"

"Just chatting." Shael, the robot girl says, lounging on the large seat lazily. "Come sit with us."

I nod and sit in the spot she indicates next to her. I subtly attempt to scan her with my omni-tool to inquire about her species but I receive an error.

"You know why it did that?" She asks me. I look at her and find she's looking me dead in the face, eyes glowing behind a glass visor.

I shake my head and clear my throat. "Uh, no."

"Because our suits give off slight electromagnetic fields." She responds. "Doesn't do much, but it does prevent scans from omni-tools. I get it, you're human and you're new to the Citadel, you've probably never seen a Quarian before. I'm Quarian."

"Oh alright." I respond with a nod, thankful for the information. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." She says. "You want a drink?"

"I probably shouldn't." I respond.

"Hey!" Khel Turok shouts, slamming his hand on my back. "Don't worry about it! Shael here doesn't usually drink with us so she's always the designated driver, ha! Knock em back, buddy!"

I shrug and grin a little. "Alright, what the hell?"

He bellows with laughter. "That's the spirit, dammit! Bartender! Get this man here some alcohol! Strong and cold!"

"Hey dude." Michael says to me nudging me. "So I need a gym buddy and you look like you're in kick ass shape. Interested?"

I shrug. "Sure."

"Awesome!" He replies getting more excited than he probably should have. "Like no shit bro you are fucking shredded."

"Am I?" I ask.

"Yeah!" He exclaims with a bark of laughter. "Here! Come with me!"

Michael grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet with a grunt of effort and leads me over to the bar where a group of young women is standing around chatting. The bartender hands me my drink and I stand there awkwardly as Michael knocks his back.

"Excuse me ladies!" Michael exclaims and they all look at us in confusion. "This is my friend Jack and he's hot as fuck."

Michael grabs my shirt and lifts it up and everyone gasps when my midsection is revealed. I look down at myself and frown at Michael who is gaping at my core as are all the women.

"Uh... What's happening right now?" I ask in utter confusion.

"Holy fuck dude! You've got mega abs!" Michael exclaims, laughing. One of the women touches my stomach and giggles, reeling back.

"Okay!" I say, forcing my shirt down and retreating to the group.

"That was awesome! You totally swooned those girls!" Michael exclaims laughing. "And while I'm at it, sorry if this seems straight forward by the way, but our kick ass performance the other day at the rift got us into a gamer's tournament and we were wondering if you wanted to join in?"

I look around at the group who look at me expectantly, grinning.

I raise my hands defensively. "Look, I'm not really into games that much. I really don't have time to play for a tournament."

"Aw!" Mez protests in a whiney voice. "But we got you a membership and username and everything!"

I look at him quizzically.

"Yeah!" Khel Turok barks with laughter loudly. "You're 'JacktheGiantSlayer41.' Cool right?"

I shrug. "I guess."

"Mike came up with it." Khel Turok laughs.

Mike shrugs. "What do you say buddy?"

I look around at the group, all staring at me. Goddammit.

"Yeah. Fine. Alright." I reply, relenting.

Mez lets out a sigh of relief. "Goddamn! You had me scared there for a second buddy! We were never going to win without you!"

"Yeah, listen guys I'm not really so hot on this idea." I say. "I'm not really a gamer. I'm more of a… real life sort of person."

"Well you must kick absolute ass in real life." Michael says with a laugh.

I shrug.

"What do you do for a living, Jack?" Shael asks.

I look at her. "I'm in the business of the administration of justice, law. That sort of thing. Not really interesting."

"Don't be modest, that's super cool!" Mez exclaims. "Where are you looking to get a job? C-Sec?"

I think of a lie quickly. "Well actually I'm not a cop or judge or a lawyer by any traditional aspect. I work for a company which works in the administration of justice. I work at a desk. Nothing interesting, trust me, but it pays the bills and then some. My company is based on Earth and has set up office here on the Citadel and I'm in charge of it. I'm on sabbatical right now while the upper echelon sets up the new division so I'm not really seeing any income."

"Hey man, let me know if you need to find a place." Mez says, repeating his earlier offer. "I can find you a great place for a good price."

I nod. "Thanks, I'll take you up on that."

"Cool, come by the office tomorrow around ten if that works for you." He says with a smile.

I nod. "Perfect."

"Meanwhile, the rest of us really don't have much to offer you." Mike says. "Personally I work as a paralegal for the embassy. It's boring, but I make bank so I can't complain."

"I'm just big and strong." Khel Turok says with a grunt of laughter. "So I do what comes natural."

"In other words, he does shadier stuff than the rest of us." Shael says with humor in her voice.

"Hey! I already told you that I didn't know that Dex was running a drug racket!" Khel Turok protests. "I was just a door guard, I didn't know anything that was going on!"

She waves him off. "Whatever. I'm a general ship mechanic. I work at the docks here on Aroch."

"Ship mechanic huh?" I ask, my interest piqued. "So you get those space ships all in working order?"

She nods. "Yep. I've been doing it since I was a little girl. I was always in the engine compartment. I love everything about them: The noise, the heat, the humidity, the vibrations of the engine... Ooh, there's nothing I love more."

"That was extremely, _extremely _erotic." Michael points out with a laugh. "To anybody that heard that out of context I figure that they only thought the same thing that I did."

"Shut the fuck up." Shael snaps back. "I love engines, not _particularly_ anything else."

Weird.


	6. Chapter 6: Project

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUSTICE**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 6**

**PROJECT**

**##########################################################**

**Today is the 21****st**** of January, 2174. It's about noon. I'm waiting for a friend. I have a short term goal and a plan now. But I'll need help.**

We lost the tournament. Shame. But what are you going to do? It's just a game. As for my progress into finding a method to stop the Keyzer Cartel, it's not going well.

I had this epiphany the other day when I cut my arm on a piece of piping in the Warehouse. I was looking at my arm, bleeding, and I remembered the morgue and how I had to escape and that, even though it went smoothly that time, it might not go smoothly in the future.

It's not like the wastes. A corpse was a corpse. They were common place. They were everywhere. And when you found one you checked to see if it had something useful before leaving it there to decompose in the unforgiving sun.

Here, people aren't so accustomed to seeing corpses laying around here and there. If they see a corpse, they'll call the police. And the police will take the corpse to a morgue to autopsy it so they can determine what killed it.

This might prove to be a problem in the future.

Also, what if I died in the midst of a gang hideout or something. I'll admit, I'm not well learned on the subject of modern day gangs and thugs but they probably do one of two things with the corpse they just killed: They leave it there for the cops, or they hide it/dispose of it.

Now let's explore option B.

Where is the best place to hide and or get rid of a corpse? Garbage chutes. They're everywhere and according to the general populace they lead to dumps in the nigh inaccessible bowels of the Citadel which lead to compactors which lead to lord knows where. I assume that they go to either some kind of mega incinerator or the trash gets spaced.

I've never actually been incinerated into mere ashes before, so I don't know what'll happen if it does. But I assume that it'll be painful and _if_ I do come back to life I'll either be incinerated again because I can't escape or launched into space.

If I'm launched into space, what'll happen to me? I'll die, my corpse will float around for 8 hours, I'll come back to life and re-die immediately, basically keeping me dead indefinitely, until I get somewhere where my life can be sustained, which is statistically not likely. What happens if I float too close to like a gas giant or something and get pulled to its surface where I'm pressed into the molten metal crust of the planet by infinite gravity? I'll re-die every 8 hours over and over and over and over and over again until, god forbid, the universe ends, or until the star that the gas giant orbits supernovas 80 billion years later, only to restart this process over and over and over again…

So in short, I don't want to get spaced. And if I don't want to get spaced, I better not get killed while in the clutches of criminals.

So to that effect, I have decided to put forth some assets and effort into purchasing some armor for me to wear in order for me not to die quite as quickly. I almost miss the days where it didn't matter if I was killed or not. I have no reserves to dying. None at all.

At any rate, Mez is setting up my new apartment, situated in the lower Aroch Ward. The rent is affordable for such an outstanding place, but I'll have to do more crime fighting and less bullshitting at the Rift from now on. Not to mention that I now have to put together enough funds to finance armor for myself.

To get the money to do this I've spent the last several days shaking down/murdering general muggers and scum bags for information as well as researching news reports on the extranet and asking around for general rumors about shady business.

And I think I found something solid. Something risky. But something worth said risk.

Apparently there is a major smuggling operation in the Teyseri docks. I first got the rumor from Shael, who works at the Aroch docks as a mechanic. The Teyseri docks are run mostly by a union of dock workers, but it's pretty well known that the union works with a weapons smuggler here on the Citadel. Some lowlifes told me that his biggest shipment yet was on its way, bound to arrive tonight. It's supposed to be purchased by the Keyzer Cartel.

That's not going to happen. I'm going to be there when the deal takes place. I'm going to kill everyone, destroy the weapons, take the money and get out of there before I live to regret it.

Ha.

Live to regret it. That's all I can do.

To pull off this hit, I need some help I think. So I called in some muscle.

I look up from my steak as I feel heavy footsteps approaching. Turok grins at me. Funny story, I'd been calling him Khel Turok for weeks but apparently his name is Turok and only Turok. Khel is his clan. Silly me.

"Hey bud." Turok grunts at me before taking a seat. "Whatcha eating?"

"Steak." I reply around a mouthful of succulent steak. "It's delicious. Want some?"

"Nah, looks too small for me. One of your bites is like a crumb to the Krogan." Turok replies. "So why did you call me down? You mentioned something about a business proposition."

I nod. "Yeah. There's something I need to tell you about myself that you can't tell any of the other guys."

He shrugs. "Sure."

"I don't really work behind a desk." I say. "I'm more of a… man of action."

He grins. "I fucking knew it."

I shrug and continue. "I didn't lie when I said that I'm in the business of the administration of justice. Basically, what I do is I go and find criminals and administer justice."

"You kill them." He says, bluntly.

I nod. "Most of the time."

He barks with a laugh. "So you're like a vigilante? That's awesome. I thought all humans were squishy soft things who were squeamish of real shit like that. Good to see I was wrong."

I shrug. "About me at least. But here's why I need you: I'm going to stop a major weapons shipment tonight at the Teyseri docks and I need backup. Interested?"

"What's in it for me?" He asks.

"My major source of income is these criminals. After I administer my justice, I usually take whatever they have, money mostly. Valuables I'll sometimes take to sell for more money. I plan on killing everyone at the deal tonight, destroying the merchandise and taking the money for the purchase for myself, and you, if you were to tag along."

"How much are we talking here?" He asks.

I ponder. "I'm not sure. Based on the quality and the quantity of the arms shipment, a lot. We'll see how much I guess."

"How much will I get?" He asks.

"Half." I say.

He nods. "I'm in."

"Good." I say with a grin.

"Wait who are the weapons for? Who's buying them?" Turok asks.

"The Keyzer Cartel." I reply, taking a sip of wine.

"I'm out." Turok says waving his hands. "I'm not getting on their bad side. I already am kind of on a watch list because of that incident at the Corner Club."

I suddenly recall that I actually came face to face with Turok at the Corner Club a few weeks ago. Not only that, but I had a conversation with him. He has yet to recognize me. Perhaps it's best for me to keep that under the wire.

I shrug. "No trouble. I'll go alone. It's probably safer that way anyways."

He's quiet for a while before sighing loudly. "Fine. I'll help you. But I want like… A disguise or something."

"Like a mask?" I ask with a frown. "What for?"

"For anonymity. What if one of them survives and escapes? What if there are security cameras?" He plants his hand on the table. "I want a mask."

"As badass as that sounds, where the hell are we going to get masks?" I ask.

He thinks for a second before nodding. "I might know a guy. He's underground so this might not be expressly legal."

"How so?" I ask, not actually sure if I want to get involved with illegal activity depending how shady it is.

"Well, he's a bit radical, a bit… over the top. He doesn't like all of the rules concerning armor that they have so he does his own thing and it's pretty illegal in Citadel Space. He does it more out of enjoyment than anything else though. I don't actually _know _him, but I know of him." Turok says.

"Where do we find him?" I ask.

Turok scoffs. "In the fucking shadiest part of town: Upper Kithoi."

**##########################################################**

**It takes us an hour from there to get to Upper Kithoi. It is not a nice place. But I trust Turok enough to follow him into this sinful place.**

I sigh audibly through my nose as Turok asks for information from a stall vendor. This place is sin incarnate. Prostitution, drug dealing, and poverty around every corner. The place is filthy as well. Even the Citadel has its lower class areas evidently. This is not a good place. I can't kill all of these people though, that's not justified. It'll take much more work to clean up this place and these people.

"Alright." Turok says returning to me, handing me some sort of food wrapped in foil. "So that guy told me that the guy we're looking for operates beneath a restaurant around the corner. Shall we?"

"A restaurant?" I ask opening the foil and looking at the large tan steamy bundle inside. "Isn't that peculiar?"

Turok shrugs and takes a bite out of his own rather sizable bundle, revealing that it's a wrap of some kind, filled with a cacophony of foods. "I'm not complaining."

I take a bite out of my own wrap thing and find that it's kind of really delicious. "What is this?"

"It's a fucking burrito, shithead." Turok replies, tossing the rest of his burrito into his mouth. "Your own fucking species made these and you don't even know what the fuck it is?"

"Still learning." I say with a shrug, eating more of my burrito with a hunger, despite the fact that I just ate lunch an hour ago.

We round the corner and Turok leads me to a tiny restaurant. Inside, its run by a sick looking turian in a white apron and hat, both stained hopelessly with grease. He stands behind a counter in a tiny window with a cage. Above the cage is a sign with a few menu items and next to me there is a single table with chairs. Next to the caged counter is a door and through the cage, behind the turian I can see a shabby poorly lit kitchen where I can see a short elderly human with dark hair cooking even though there are no patrons in the restaurant. Other than that, there is nothing else of note in this tiny cramped space.

We walk up to the counter with Turok in the lead, me shoving burrito in my mouth. I noticed soon after I go here that I tend to shove more food into my mouth than I can actually chew and swallow, making me look like a chipmunk. It's an embarrassing quirk but the fact that I'm eating like a pig should be a testament to how good the food is.

The turian looks up at us with tiny, tired looking eyes. "What's it going to be big fella?"

"Looking for Vaasarah." Turok says. "And I'll take the largest amount of beef chow mein that you can give me to go."

The turian grumbles and shovels at least a pound of dark brown noodles with a fair mix of vegetables, tiny bits of meat, and who knows what else into a very large container. He hands off the container of noodles and Turok pays before the turian nods at the door.

"Downstairs. Don't take too long." The turian grumbles.

I follow Turok downstairs as he opens his container of noodles and sends them into his mouth in greasy slurps using a pair of long tapered sticks. He stabs his sticks into his second post lunch meal as we reach the bottom of the stairs, the sounds of metal work and machinery operation getting louder as we descend.

Finally we arrive in a large room blocked with some mediocre low makeshift walls that do little to block the view to the other parts of the room sitting in seemingly random places. The room has dozens upon dozens of tools hanging from hooks welded to the walls as well a score of huge machines.

I let my eyes wander as I chew on a mouth overfull with burrito.

Turok grunts and hands over his huge container of 'chow mein' to me and disappears behind a particularly tall partition wall with sparks flying out behind it. I look around workshop curiously. There's a very, very fine layer of tiny metal shavings on the ground. I rearrange the objects in my arms and run a finger on a table and rub at the thick layer of black grime on my fingertip.

Well. He's not clean.

I put my burrito in the crook of my arm and brace the noodles against my chest before taking the sticks in my own hand. I fumble with them for a bit before trying to just go for it and try to get the noodles in my mouth to no success.

"Jack!" Turok hollers leading another person around the corner.

This is an alien I haven't seen before.

He's tall, at least six and a half feet tall with an extremely muscled frame that makes him look simply like a steadfast wall of muscly meat. His head sort of looks like a human with their scalp removed and then deep fried. His skin is deep greyish crimson with significant bone ridges running over along the top of his head, giving him a devilish appearance. He has four eyes, significant jowls that almost look like tubes jutting out of his nose which looks a lot like… layers of roast beef. He looks at me and lifts his thin upper lip revealing a row of bright shiny dagger like teeth.

What is this thing now? So many new things today!

"Human." He says, his voice frighteningly deep with a sinister vibrato to it. "You didn't say he was human, krogan."

"What's with the racial reduction?" Turok asks watching me fumble with the sticks. "I told you my name… Having trouble with the chopsticks there buddy?"

Turok takes my hand in both of his giant ones and walks me through using them nodding at me like I'm three years old. I follow along, grateful for the demonstration despite his unfortunate treatment of me.

"All the same." The strange looking alien says, his voice sounding four octaves lower than I'm accustomed. "Names don't mean shit. Humans: Greedy, violent, high sense of entitlement, think their way is best. Krogan: Violent, think they're the end all be all of everything, violent again."

I look at Turok and shrug. He shrugs back. Can't really argue with that.

Turok looks back at the strange alien. "So can you make us what we want or not?"

He nods. "Don't insult me. You're asking me for two chunks of scrap."

"Well, what would you do with them?" Turok asks with a shrug.

The four-eyed alien shrugs. "Bulletproof them. Customize them for aesthetic. Program them with explosives to blast your faces off if you die."

I look at Turok who looks at me. I smile but Turok gives me a confused expression.

"Just bulletproof them." Turok says.

I struggle to get a huge ball of noodles into my chopsticks but manage to get them into my mouth. I instantly make a bunch of yummy noises and look at Turok, noodles still hanging out of my mouth.

"These taste awesome!" I say as I shovel more chow mein into my mouth.

"Alright, I know." Turok says stopping me from putting more food in my mouth. "You'll fucking choke if you keep shoving food in your mouth like that."

The alien stares at me his right eyes narrowed and his mouth open slightly. He looks at Turok. "What the fuck's wrong with him?"

"Phuck you." I say around a mouthful of noodles.

"Whatever. I'll go make your ballistic masks." The alien says.

"Don't you need to scan our faces or something to get a proper fit?" Turok asks in confusion.

"I got full body scans of you on your way in." The alien responds disappearing behind a partition wall. "I'm already breaking every law in the book for armoring might as well move onto a different book. Privacy I guess."

"What kind of laws are you breaking?" I ask, swallowing a mouthful of noodles.

He comes back around the partition wall with a gun in hand he levels it with my face.

"What the fuck? Is he a fucking cop or something?" The alien asks, hissing at Turok.

Turok shakes his head. "No he's… a man of action who works in the field of the administration of justice?"

I shrug. "Sounds about right."

"What the fuck does that mean?" The alien asks.

"It means." I say staring him dead in the face. "That I kill people who make serious mistakes.

"What makes you so damn special that you get to operate above the law?" The alien asks.

I shrug again. "Laws are mostly subjective. People who have the power are the ones who make the laws. People who have power will do whatever it takes to make sure that it stays that way. I'm not afraid to stand up for what's right and what's wrong. And if I have to do some questionable things in the process, so be it."

"Isn't that REALLY hypocritical?" The alien asks.

I shrug again. "Maybe."

I nudge him in the ribs with the barrel of my Maxus.

He looks down. "Huh. You're good. I didn't even notice. Why not just shoot?"

I give him a look. "Well, have you ever killed anyone?"

He narrows his eyes at me and doesn't respond for a long time. "No. Not yet. I'm not afraid to though."

I lower my revolver and after a minute he lowers his own gun.

"I'll be right back with your masks." He says walking away again.

I put my revolver away and start eating the noodles again.

"Hey gimme those." Turok says snatching the noodles away from me. I immediately turn over to my burrito again.

The alien returns not three minutes later with two black masks in his hands. One large and wide for Turok, more blade-like in its shape. Mine is just smooth and featureless, with two deep grooves for the eyes. This will impair my vision some but it'll protect my face from getting blown off… or will it?

"You didn't put explosives in these did you?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Try them on."

I put my mask over my face and it automatically secures to my face with a strap at the back that tightens automatically. I feel the mask fit perfectly around my face with a little space around my mouth and nose. There's a hiss and I find that the mask automatically pushes air into the spaces around my nose and mouth and I feel a light breeze of air brushing past my jaw.

"As you probably noticed, the masks are ventilated and filtered so you don't have to worry about harmful gases. In the case of you getting thrown into a vacuum, it'll seal completely, closing opaque shutters over the eye holes so your eyeballs don't get sucked out. It has about thirty seconds worth of breathable air in it. That's not a lot of time, but thirty seconds can make the difference between life and death. It'll be tough to move too and it won't seem like much air and… that's because it isn't much air." The alien explains.

I shrug. "You win some you lose some. What's the price?"

"Turok says you're in for a big payout if you pull off this job?" The alien asks before shrugging. "I'll take 900 for the two masks. He tells me you want armor too?"

I nod.

"Alright. Well, make me an offer now and I'll make it nice for you." He says.

"Fuck I don't know." I say with a shrug. "For a full set? 10000 I guess?"

He nods. "That's good enough."

I realize suddenly what he just did. It's an old bartering trick. Get someone who doesn't know dick to give you a rough estimate and get upwards of twice what it normally costs. Ignorant people always go too high. I sigh through my nose but let it slide.

"I'll see you around then." He says holding a hand out to me.

I shake it. "Jack."

"Vaasarah. Vaas." He says.

I nod. "Vaas."

**##########################################################**

**From there, we go to Teyseri and stakeout the docks. We find the deal locations and observe the smugglers offloading their cargo, getting ready for the deal. They're armed to the teeth and experienced. This will either be really easy and quick or it'll go very badly.**

I peek around the corner of the cargo container we're standing on and look down at the small courtyard below where half a dozen men, armed to the teeth stand around with a dozen large crates nearby.

"They here yet?" Turok asks from the shadows nearby.

I shake my head.

I hear a loud crunch and look back at Turok as he shovels fistfuls of chips into his mouth.

"You're never not eating are you?" I ask.

He blinks at me and points the opening of the bag at me.

I roll my eyes and take a chip, eating it. Those are pretty delicious in a simple way. But they taste really fake. Why do people eat these?

I look back down at the small courtyard and perk up as a trio of men in black approach the other men.

"Turok this is it!" I say patting him.

He peeks over my shoulder and wipes his mouth. "So, nine? Can we take nine?"

I nod. "If we hit them hard and fast we can."

He shrugs. "Alright, let's do it."

I pull my mask down and activate my omni-tool readying an Incinerate program. My omni-tool creates a mini-crossbow with a little glowing red missile in it.

"Alright Turok." I say. "I'll drop initiate the attack, you take pos-"

I look behind me and find he's gone.

"Okay." I sigh. "Already gone."

I sigh again before dropping down from the container to get closer. I draw my two Maxus revolvers and hold them ready. Alright here we go.

I raise my arm and aim it square at one of the men in black, the crossbow ready to fire. I fire the bolt at the man in black and he erupts in flame, shouting in alarm before howling in pain.

Turok bursts out from behind a cargo container and blasts the head off of another man in black with his shotgun, taking the last hostage as a meat shield, just in time as well.

I leap off of the cargo container and land with a roll. I get to my feet quickly and take aim with my revolvers. I shoot two guards in the head while they're distracted by Turok before rolling to the side behind a crate of weapons.

I press my back against it but notice that the crate is sitting on a hover cart of some kind, making it practically weightless.

I pivot around onto my back and plant my feet against the crate gently before straightening my legs with explosive force. The crate slams into two of the guards giving Turok just enough time to ditch his ground beef meat shield and blast away a guard with his shotgun.

I aim one of my revolvers at the last standing guard and unload it on him, taking him to the ground in a hail of cannon like shots. Turok roars and rushes the last two guards, leaping and landing with one foot on each guard, their gore spraying all over the place.

I get to my feet panting.

Turok barks with laughter. "Yeah! We did it! Killed all those fuckers!"

I nod. "Yeah we did. Open the crates, let's see what we have. I'm going to take the credits."

He nods and I go to the men in black. I search the three of them, finding handguns, omni-tools and credit chits for all three as well as a small metal case that seems to have stopped multiple rounds. I open the metal case and find another credit chit. I check the reader.

A lot of money for a lot of guns.

I grin and turn around to Turok who pops open the last crate to look inside. "Turok. Pay day."

He nods with a grin and waves me over. "They were buying some heavy duty shit here, Jack!"

I get up and move to Turok examining the crates. I can't make any sense out of some of them but he obviously can.

"Explosives, incendiary equipment. Big guns, little guns. Rocket launchers, grenade launchers, miniguns, grenades, body armor. They're getting ready for war!" Turok exclaims.

I shake my head. "Not anymore. Torch it."

Turok nods. "I'll use the incendiary shit to create a delay fuse. It'll melt through the crates and detonate the explosives and the rest of the incendiary shit I dump in there."

"Sounds good." I say. "I'll keep an eye out."

Turok starts moving crates around and I move over to the armored guards. I kneel next to one and search him for credits and such. Huh. I take a moment to examine his armor. It's definitely different from anything I've ever used. The closest it comes to would probably be that old pneumatic power armor that I wore for that stint with a wasteland vigilante force in Montana a handful of decades ago. It's definitely far more streamlined than anything I've ever seen, it covers more of the body with more sophisticated layering and placement methods than I'm used to and most likely without a bulky huge pneumatic actuation skeleton. This still looks too big and clunky for me though. I'm not big on being weighed down by lots of equipment. For me, movement is key. I find that in battle, especially against a group of enemies, an individual combatant needs everything he or she can use to eliminate his or her opposition. And in my years of experience, enemies, for the most part like to be static and behind cover. It makes them feel more secure, maybe.

I exploit this by moving fast around the enemy and moving forward, cover to cover, to close the distance and wipe out my enemy or enemies. I can't aim very well when moving as fast as I can, and I can move pretty fast, but I lay down a good burst of rounds to cover myself when I move.

But, now I have these six-shooters. They shoot quickly but overheat just as fast. They only take a few seconds to cool enough for me to fire again. On the battlefield, seconds can make the difference. But it's not like dying really plays a role for me but in this world it might.

And that's… a little scary.

So that's why I'm getting the armor.

Which makes me think… maybe I should put some… Counter measures into my armor to help ensure that I survive any encounter?

I mentioned earlier that if I die in enemy hands I might get spaced and that would be super terrible? Well, if that (God forbid) does happen I might want to have a few back up plans readily available. But that's for later.

I finish searching the rest of the guards, taking their credits before going back to Turok's side.

He looks at me. "Ready? I've got everything set up, good to go."

I nod. "Let's do it."

He nods and holds up a black duffel bag. "I took some gear by the way. Figured it might come in handy at some time."

I shrug in response, not really caring. He digs in the bag and places a disk about the size of a coaster on top of a crate and presses a button on it. A red spinning light appears on the disk and Turok nods at me.

"Let's go." He says, leading me away from the crates.

He stops and turns back waving his omni-tool back at the crates. There's a moderate explosion followed by a near blinding white light flaring off the top of the crate where the disk was. Was that a grenade? Gosh they made them weird didn't they? Disc shaped? Maybe a shaped charge? Research for a later day, I think.

"Come on." Turok says waving me on before running. "It'll blow anytime now and we don't want to be here when it does."

I nod and sprint after him as we exfiltrate the docks. A few moments later there is a massive explosion from behind us, toppling cargo containers and setting off numerous alarms. Turok laughs with glee and leads me out of the docks.

Once in a secluded place we remove our masks and put them underneath our clothing. Turok laughs loudly and I join him with a small laugh of my own.

"Yes! I missed shit like that, Jack!" He says with a laugh of glee. "Explosions, gunfights, blood, pain! Battle! I live for it!"

"You take a hit?" I ask.

He looks down at his arm which has a good chunk missing. "A little meat off my bones, nothing to bat an eye at. It'll be healed up within a few days at most. Krogan are built tough."

"Good to know." I say. "Good work, Turok. Here's your cut."

I give him half of the credit chits I took off of the guards before taking off half of the one with the big payout before handing it off to him as well.

"Goddamn." Turok says with a grin. "This is a paycheck! I ought to work with you more often, Jack."

"If I need muscle, I know who to call." I say with a nod.

He grins. "Take care, boss. Call me if you need a hand with anything."

He leaves looking up and down the street before disappearing into the crowds.

Good day today.

**##########################################################**

**Two days later, a dedicated detective works diligently into the night and struggles to find answers to many things, himself included, amidst too much stress and too little rest.**

Detective Ar Chellick walks into his small office with a sigh. He's been tasked with several cases due to the widespread layoffs going on around his precinct. At this rate, he'll be stuck solving every goddamn crime on the Citadel.

The cases he's stuck dealing with right now are all his because of their connection to each other. He's working the Corner Club gang hit massacre case, the 'simple mugging gone just fucking terrible when the fucking body and all record of the corpse, including photographs from the morgue and the scene as well as all DNA records, disappeared from the morgue' case, the bar brawl turned gun fight on Zakera ward at that shit hole Dommar's bar, the Escape18 case got pushed on him following the discovery of his fucking corpse in Dommar's basement, and now he's got the Teyseri docks craziness.

The main connection for all of them is the gang scene on the Citadel, which happens to be Chellick's department, in particular the most powerful of all of them: The Keyzer Cartel. Chellick moves his terminal screen away from him and shuts off the keyboard as well. He places his elbows on his desk, rubbing his face with both his hands.

He groans from exhaustion and sighs very audibly. Even Chellick, a proactive, fiercely intelligent and dedicated investigator, has his limits. This work load is killing him. Not just the sheer overwhelming size of it, but the frustration it drives into him. He knows that the Keyzer Cartel is the _why_ and not the _who_ like everyone thinks it is. It's for that reason that he can't investigate much further than he already has. Chellick knows with almost complete certainty that the current executor, Executor Tomlin is completely corrupt, bought by every major gang presence on the Citadel, every smuggler, every black market dealer, every criminal worth his salt as Tomlin in their pocket. But he's been appointed Executor by people more powerful than himself, which leads Chellick to believe that the corruption runs far deeper than anybody could do anything about.

Chellick knows that the Keyzer Cartel is the reason for the crimes occurring but every time he pieces in that they're involved his case flatlines. The higher ups always will give him more work, or give him shitty orders that lead him in random, pointless directions. Chellick wishes sometimes that he could just quit and give up on it all but he's better than that. He's got a job to do and that's to be a fucking peace keeper and that's what he's going to do. He feels like the last damn good cop in the galaxy right now but if he gave up there wouldn't be any more so he can't.

Chellick sighs and pulls his terminal back to continue working. The club attack, it was ran by a high ranking member of the Cartel. The bar on Zakera wasn't ran by the Cartel, but Escape18 did work for the Cartel on a daily basis. They were his biggest clientele. The mugging gone security crisis was a mugging by Keyzer goons, according to reports that haven't vanished. Finally that weapons shipment at the docks was destroyed but three of the bodies there were Cartel members who were high ranking enforcers for the Keyzer Cartel. As for the dealers themselves, they were from the Terminus systems, so that's a dead end in itself.

The Cartel is the victim in this believe it or not, but Chellick has noticed a pattern, as well as a commonality. There has been an individual of similar description at each event according to reports. Not only that, but the pattern is starting to show itself as some kind of revenge crusade against the Cartel of some kind. Hitting their major establishments and rackets, their men, their money and their gear. Somebody is waging war against the Cartel. Why?

And who?

Chellick has a feeling that the individual seen at every scene so far is the _who_. He was described as a tall human male between the ages of 28 and 30 with a strong athletic build, long messy light brown wavy hair and beard wearing black clothing with a fairly unique black shirt with a shiny silver chevron on it by eye witnesses. At the mugging, the victim's description in reports was lost, as well as photographic evidence. Somebody was trying to conceal the identity of the victim who had no identification, a John Doe. But according to the people who saw the body first hand, he was a young human male between the age of 23 and 25, about 6'2" tall with dirty blonde hair and light brown-yellow eyes and an athletic build. And according to the coroners who are in a psych ward at the moment, the John Doe wasn't taken, rather, he walked out on his own. At the Dommar's bar shootout, among the two survivors of the shootout, one of them said the shootout started when gunshots were heard from the basement just moments after a young human male, about 6' tall with brown hair went into the basement. There was a blood trail leading away from the scene of the crime but it disappeared quickly, cleaned up or concealed by somebody as the blood lead into an alleyway. The blood wouldn't process in the DNA system either, in fact, the blood type wasn't even discernable. A glitch in the system most likely. They're working on fixing that. Finally, and most interestingly, there were security cameras that captured the entire Teyseri gunfight. The deal was just starting when the smugglers and the Cartel members were both attacked by a krogan and a human male. The krogan and human killed all of the Cartel members and the smugglers and stole the money for the deal before destroying the weapons that were to be purchased by the Cartel. Both the krogan and the human were both wearing masks, and the video quality wasn't great seeing as how it was from a long distance away, but the human was confirmed as wearing a black shirt with a shiny silver chevron on it. The same one as from the Corner Club. And the krogan's blood was found on scene, but turned up nothing based on DNA results, so all that tells Chellick is that he's not in the system.

Chellick knows that it's a long shot that all of these people were the same, hell, one of them was a confirmed corpse from a mugging. But he finds it really strange that they all have very similar descriptions and are connected to all the major hits against the Cartel in the last month. It can't be a coincidence.

"Or it is just a coincidence." Chellick's partner, says as she walks into the room.

"What?" Chellick asks her, looking away from his terminal.

"You think out loud when you're really out of it." Chellick's partner says.

Chellick's partner is green. Which is very peculiar considering all of the layoffs going on. She's only been working here for a few weeks now but in that short amount of time Chellick's learned just how resourceful she is. Olivia Jordon graduated from the C-Sec Academy only six weeks ago and has since been working in Investigations but she's only been Chellick's partner for half that time now. She's one of only a few dozen humans in C-Sec and one of only a handful of investigators for C-Sec. But there's no doubt that she's good at what she does. Chellick knows that he's 'supposed' to dislike her because she's a human and because he's a turian. But Chellick doesn't really care about that. As long as she can do her job as well as he can, he's alright by her. And so far, she's shown him that she can do her job and then some. Even comparing her to a nearly ten year veteran of C-Sec like Chellick, she's good at what she does.

"Oh sorry." Chellick says with a loud sigh. "I'm a little in my own head here, I guess. Just a big work load."

"I understand." Jordon says sitting at her own desk. "I'm working the same cases. Remember?"

He shakes his head. "Right. Sorry, I'm just really out of it."

"You need a break, Chellick." Jordan says. "I was thinking about clocking out early and hitting the gym, you should come too."

He shakes his head. "No, I can't I've got way too much work to do."

She shakes her head. "Come on. You can spare an hour or two. We'll work out, get something to eat, it'll be fun. It'll help you unwind. Come on, partner. Besides you've hit dead ends anyways."

Chellick sighs and shakes his head, rubbing his face with his hands. "Dead ends… Yeah. You're right. Maybe it'll help me rethink everything."

**##########################################################**

**Meanwhile, on the other side of the Citadel, a plot most dire is about to ensue. A vigilante is about to be born, a crusade is about to begin and a symbol of fear of the law is about to be created.**

I walk into Vaas's workshop, a small container of chow mein in hand. I'm getting used to these chopsticks. They're still difficult to use but I got it down. Turok's constant eating is rubbing off on me. Can't help it. I'm always hungry. Superhuman metabolism and what have you.

I walk into Vaas's workshop and look around for a moment. I find him at a large drawing table where he works diligently.

"Vaas." I say after swallowing my food.

He looks over his shoulder at me. "Jack. Here to talk armor?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Alright, before we get started I want to know a budget." He says. "Most armorers will just swindle you into paying more but I'm not going to do that. I want to know what my limits are."

"I thought we agreed on 10,000?" I say with a frown.

He frowns. "10,000 won't get you much. It'll be pretty basic."

"Spare no expense." I say with a shrug.

He grins. "That's what I like to hear. So let's start broad and get smaller. How heavy are we making this?"

"Well, that's going to be the tricky part." I say, taking a seat on a nearby stool. "I need something that can take plenty of damage but I need to be able to move fast without a problem."

Vaas nods, looking very thoughtful. "Right, right. Easy to move, but tough. Those usually don't come hand in hand but there's something I can do about that."

"Well, there was this armor that I used to use that used hydraulic engines powered by energy cells that simulated muscle strands and powered movement. It was power armor. Personally I didn't really like using it because it was big and clunky and ugly and it was like the slightest twitch of your body made the armor go nuts and smash something and it took a lot of training to use." I say. "If there's something, maybe more sophisticated…"

Vaas grins. "There is, there is. There are several options here, they're all illegal for commercial use, but I'm going to stick to the ones that don't involve implants. So we can use, basically a far more sophisticated version of what you described where the armor, linked up to neural sensors picks up your brain activity and assists your movement, increasing your body's potential stamina to perform tasks. Or what we can have is an exomuscular system that replaces the under armor second skin. What that does is it basically gives you a second muscular system to do half the work of your muscles, doubling your strength and your stamina. Finally what we can do is add on a special exoskeletal power suit that is added onto your armor and will increase your body's ability to support weight as well as give you incredible strength and what not. The exoskeleton and muscle suit are by far the most expensive out of the two."

"Can I do all three?" I ask with a laugh.

Vaas laughs too. "Ha! I wish. Unfortunately you can only do a maximum of two. The muscle suit and the neural sensor won't work together."

"Well, then can I do the muscle suit with the exoskeleton?" I ask.

Vaas nods with excitement. "Definitely, definitely! Let's move on to the under armor suit and kinetic barriers, in that case. I developed a special under armor suit that doesn't work like the normal suits. The normal ones are little more than clothes but mine is full of tech. It's technically illegal to use what I put in it but I did it anyways."

"What's in it?" I ask.

"Well, it has carbon nanofibers in it for durability against tears and general abrasion, it has diamond fibers in the stitching for cut protection, and it finally has a synthetic shock gel interior for both comfort and shock protection. It feels a bit weird at first but you get used to it. That's all _pretty _illegal. The illegal stuff comes when I tell you that it has a secondary central nervous system, literally a second spine that **will **attach itself to you. It allows you to wear your armor like a second skin, so that it responds to your commands and to your brain as if it were an extension of your own body. Finally, and this is the really illegal part, it has neural shock diodes that simulate pain." He notices my quizzical expression and nods. "Yeah I understand your confusion. Basically what it does is it links up to your kinetic barrier and delivers slight pain when it gets hit as opposed to no pain. This is to not only to preserve your barrier because it encourages you not to sprint like a madman into combat, but also to alert you to where damage is coming from like a biotic barrier would."

I nod. "That sounds good. I like that one."

"Cool." He says with a grin. "Onto kinetic barriers. I have a bunch of options that you can choose from and they're all above par so you'll be making a good choice no matter what. So I have a burst one that senses when a shot is on its way using specially calibrated sensors on your armor and the barrier explodes out when bullets come in to knock them away harmlessly. This one will stop pretty much anything short of an explosive without taking too much energy but it's not good against things like rapid fire weapons. I can give you my rotary one that moves in a circular direction around you to throw things away from you in a more efficient manner, letting you take bigger damage at a larger cost. I have an oscillating one that moves in random directions to stop rounds short sooner. It works best against things like shotguns at close range and rapid fire weapons but not powerful things like sniper rounds. Or I can give you just a nice normal one that is pretty much good all around."

I nod along. "The burst one sounds like something I'd be into. Say I'm curious, I once had this radiation shield generator that had two settings: It had a latent shield which activated when it received certain decibel noises, like gunshots and fried them or it created an energy field that fried everything from bullets, to grenades, to lasers, anything really. It wasn't strong enough to melt people or walls but small stuff it could do."

"Well yeah, the Krogans actually used something similar during the Rachni wars, courtesy of the Salarians, but it caused severe health problems later in life. Or sooner based on how much you use it." Vaas says.

"Listen, if there's a piece of tech that you don't suggest to me because it could cause health problems later or sooner in life, then I'm talking to the wrong person. Disregard all health problems. That is not a factor here." I say.

"Alright then!" Vaas says with a grin. "It'll be hard to find, very hard, but I might be able to put an advanced radiation shield together for you and it'll be usable in addition to your kinetic barrier! But unfortunately it'll need a separate power source… I'll figure it out. It might weaken the kinetic barrier a bit because I'll need to make room for it but I'll figure it out. Alright so now let's talk general features."

"I need tactical assurance. I can't have something failing on me when I need it most. Urban environments." I say.

"Alright so I'll put in an omni-tool adaptor for your bracers so it doesn't get messed up in combat. I'll put down safety counter measures… don't worry I'll fill in the blanks." He says. "Now design. Let's-"

"I'll stop you right now." I say holding up a hand. "First, here's what I want. I want armor that I can conceal easily."

"How do you mean?" He asks.

"Like cover it up. I want to be able to go in wearing the armor and go out wearing the armor without it being obvious that I'm wearing it in the first place." I say.

"Hm… Now that's a challenge. I'll figure it out." He says. "Color?"

"Black. Head to toe." I say.

"Anything particular you want on there?" He asks.

"Yes, I want this design on the chest." I say taking my vigilante chevron t-shirt out of my backpack and handing it to him. "Exactly that. That has to be the façade of the entire suit of armor. The color and the chevron on the chest."

Vaas nods slowly, looking at the shirt. "I see. Alright I can do that no problem. Helmet. You want a full mask?"

I nod. "Absolutely. I want no part of my face showing."

He nods. "Got it. Anything else in particular you want?"

I nod, thinking of those potential 'counter measures' I thought of earlier. "Yes. I want this armor to monitor my life signs if they stop, even for a second, I want this armor to, not only eliminate any possibility of my physical description, but do it in the messiest way possible."

"So you're telling me, that you want this armor to spread your DNA all over the place." He says.

I nod. "Sort of. More like… I want it to spread bits of me all over the place, in as many different methods as possible."

"O…K… So, you want a… self-destruct?" He asks.

I nod. "In fact, I want you to add a feature that lets me self-destruct even if I'm not dead. As a failsafe."

He nods. "You're really paranoid then?"

I nod. "Pretty much."

"Alright, I can put explosives in your helmet, blast your head to bits. I can put a… for lack of a better term, throat-cutter in your helmet as well that'll slit your throat and send blood flying everywhere. Hand destroyers that'll eliminate potential fingerprints." He says, thinking out loud. "If you're unconscious I can apply a lock-shock counter measure that will lock all of your armor up so it can't be removed and if anybody tries to take it off it'll electrocute the hell out of them. Maybe I'll put in magnesium burners to incinerate-"

"No fire." I say. "But everything else is good. All of that."

He shakes his head. "Weird but I get it. Okay."

No he does not get it. If I die in the hands of criminals I need my body to get eviscerated into as many bits as possible as soon as possible. Why? Because I have a theory based on experience.

I've been beheaded before. Several times actually. When my head has been removed from my body, my head has grown back from my body, almost every time. However, once my head was removed and my body was incinerated and my head kept for display by a psychopath. The head grew the body back. Once I was put through a wood chipper following my death and turned into a billion pieces. My entire body, head, and everything grew back from one little bit of me with the rest still there, laying around all over the place. I have a theory that my body will grow back from the largest piece left of me, whether that's a piece of skull, a piece of meat or even a drop of blood. I'm not sure how much fact there is to any of it but it's worth giving it a shot. If my corpse is incinerated and my ashes spaced, I want some bits of me lying around the place of my death to grow me back, fresh and dandy.

"Alright well, this'll take a few days, maybe come back next week and I'll have it ready for you." Vaas says. "This will not be cheap so don't run off and spend all your credits and leave me high and dry here."

"Got it. I'll see you next week." I say standing and heading towards the stairs.

I head up stairs and I exit the restaurant upstairs and walk the streets, food in hand. I definitely don't like it in this neighborhood. Everybody is eying you like they want to stab you. Probably do. But they don't know that I'm packing Maxus hand cannons that can blast heads open wide.

I take a cab to the nearest location of one of my chutes. I make my way there quickly and take the chute down to the Warehouse. The Warehouse is starting to come together but it's missing some key things, including water both hot and cold, active plumbing and electricity. I know there's a way for me to activate it for this sector of the Citadel but to do that I'll need help.

Maybe I'll track down Senna, that goth hacker asari and ask for her help. I doubt she would but money is a fine enough motivator.

I'm noticing that I'm needing an increasing amount of help doing things day to day. Back in the 'good old days' I just did everything myself. I'm a pretty resourceful fellow. But shit, in this strange new world it's like I'm a new born. I can barely feed myself mostly because I have no idea what anything is.

I walk into my Warehouse and unroll my sleeping mat. I'll upgrade in just a few days. Once my new apartment is set up I'll be golden. I still need to get this place in shape though. This place is a treasure, I'm sure of it. I'll need to take care of it, keep its location as much of a secret as possible.

I lie down on my sleeping mat and close my eyes. It's a little early to sleep, but early to bed is early to rise.

**##########################################################**

**At that very moment, on the Kithoi Ward, Detective Chellick finds an escape in exercise, letting his mind become clear thanks to good company. He found his brief, fleeting escape but what goes up must come back down.**

Chellick rolls his shoulders and rotates his arms as he walks out of the gym with Jordan.

"Feeling it now, partner?" Jordan asks.

Chellick chuckles a bit. "Uh, yeah. A little. Where are we going to eat?"

"Anywhere is fine but we don't eat the same kinds of foods so our options are a bit limited." Jordan says.

Chellick thinks. "Well, I know of a small place that caters to both levo and dextro species. It's not far. Let's just eat there."

"How's the food though?" Jordan asks. "Is it any good?"

Chellick shrugs. "It's cheap. It's decent."

"Sounds good to me." Jordan says with a grin.

They walk for a moment, quietly.

"So, how're you liking the Citadel so far?" Chellick asks.

"It's a far cry from the colonies." Jordan says rubbing her arm. "But it's fantastic in its own way."

"But it still won't be anything like the colonies." Chellick points out.

Jordan sighs. "The one thing I hate about talking to cops: They always pick out the little details."

"Sorry." Chellick says.

"It's fine." Jordan says. "Not your fault."

They walk quietly for a short while, until they approach the restaurant.

"This is it." Chellick says leading the pair into the small restaurant.

The host notices them. "Hi there. Just you tonight sir?"

"I'm here with my friend." Chellick says, gesturing to Jordan, and finding it odd that he'd ask if he was alone when they walked in together."

The host smiles very widely. "Of course! Right this way!"

He leads the two of them to a table and they sit.

Jordan reads her menu with it on the table, whole heartedly focused on picking something to eat. Chellick on the other hand is looking around the restaurant suspiciously. He notices the host doing something on his omni-tool and then lean against his podium, tapping his taloned finger on it impatiently. He's waiting for somebody.

A few moments later two people, one turian and the other batarian exit the kitchen. The batarian, based on his attire, is clearly a chef. The turian is dressed in business casual so he's harder to pick out of the work force. He's not a waiter. The waiters, except for the host are wearing matching clothes.

The two people go and speak to the host. Chellick notices the host glancing this way every now and again. Chellick angrily sighs out of his nose and leans forward slightly.

"We should eat somewhere else." He says quietly to Jordan, not wanting to relent to these bigots but also not wanting to cause a fuss or give himself a reason to cause a fuss.

Jordan looks up at him, brushing some of her hair out of her face. "What? Why?"

Chellick notices the three people approaching the table. "I guess you'll find out."

"Excuse me, but I'm going to have to ask the two of you to exit the establishment." The business casual turian whom Chellick now believes is the manager or owner says.

"Why?" Chellick asks.

He glances at Jordon who has her eyes closed, her hands are gripping the table in a practically white knuckled grip and her head is tilted away from the three new comers just slightly. Her expression remains placid however.

"We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone." The manager says. "If the two of you will please leave in a calm manner it would be greatly appreciated."

The rest of the restaurant patrons are starting to take notice.

"I want to know why?" Chellick says, starting to get angry. "I'm a paying customer, my money is just as good as anybody's why can't we eat here?"

"We don't serve your kind." The manager says in a hushed voice.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Chellick hisses.

"Chellick." Jordan says looking him dead in the face. "Let's just go."

"No, I want to know what they mean!" Chellick shouts. "What do you mean you don't serve our kind?! I see turians in here. I see humans. What the fuck is the problem?!"

"We don't serve…" The manager starts but is unable to find words.

"What he's trying to say." The batarian chef starts with a sigh of impatience. Jordan visibly tenses. "Is that the restaurant doesn't cater to interspecies couples, particularly human and turian."

"First off, you bigoted piece of shit." Chellick growls his attention directed to the manager. "We aren't a fucking couple. We're work associates. Second, the Relay 314 Incident was 15 years ago. You'd think that people would learn to unclench and remove the sticks rammed in their assholes and learn to fucking let go. Third the two of us happen to be C-Sec investigators, so before you even think about calling the cops, consider the fact that you've already been talking to two of them and insulting them this entire time."

"We're… We're dreadfully sorry." The manager says quickly looking nervously around the room. "You meals are on the house. Please have a pleasant evening."

The three of them leave.

Chellick sighs loudly out of his nose, releasing some of his pent up rage before he turns back to Jordan. He instantly recognizes something is very wrong.

She's hiding her face from the general public but he sees she's holding a fearful expression. She's still gripping the table immensely tight and she's bouncing her leg very quickly.

"Partner." Chellick says quietly. "Partner, stay calm. We can stay, we're eating for free, what's the trouble partner?"

"I cannot do batarians, Chellick." Jordan replies, her voice shaky. "Cannot fucking deal with batarians."

"Bat-. Why? You're C-Sec and there are batarians living on the Citadel. You have to deal with them. It comes with the job." Chellick says, too confused to comfort her.

"I know and I'm trying… But when they get hostile towards me, I just… I lose my shit!" Jordan says breathing out loudly. "I can't, Chellick. Every time I see one I just want to pull their heads off with my bare hands."

"Why?" Chellick asks shaking his head in confusion.

"I'm from Mindoir, Chellick." Jordan says, looking him straight in the eye.

Chellick sits back, his mouth slightly agape. "Mindoir?"

"You asked him why they haven't let go of the First Contact War even though it's been 15 years. Well I don't think I'll have let Mindoir go 13 years from now. It's been two years and it still feels like it was yesterday, Chellick." Jordan says still visibly shaking.

"Come on." Chellick says standing. "Let's just go."

Jordan nods and follows Chellick out of the restaurant. They walk silently for a while before reaching a cab station.

"Listen. I can't imagine how awful that was for you. Nothing in my life has ever come slightly close. But you can't let that get in the way of your work. You're a damn good investigator." Chellick says. He places a hand on her shoulder. "You can't let your personal feelings about anything get in the way of your investigations."

Jordan nods. "I know. Thanks partner."

"Don't mention it." He says. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow. Thanks by the way. I needed this time to unwind."

"Anytime, partner." Jordan says getting into a cab and flying off.

Chellick turns and walks back home to his apartment. It's a modest place. He wishes he could afford nicer though.

Chellick pauses at his front door and sighs loudly. He opens it and walks into his apartment putting his badge and gun on a small table by the door, locking the door behind him as well. He walks into his home and up to his wife sitting on the couch. He kneels behind the couch and lays his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her torso. She leans her head against his and puts her hand on his cheek, still watching the TV.

"You're later than usual." She comments. "Lots of work?"

"As usual." Chellick responds.

"Have you eaten?" Chellick's wife asks.

"Not yet." Chellick says.

"I think there's left overs in the fridge." Chellick's wife says.

Chellick straightens and goes to the kitchen. He sifts around the refrigerator for a while before taking out a few things to eat along with something to drink. Chellick looks back out at the living room to ask his wife a question but finds that she's gone to bed already.

Chellick eats his food standing in the kitchen. He cleans his dishes after he's finished and walks into his living room and sits at a table. He checks his omni-tool for new mail and finds yet another notification of outstanding payments due for several bills, as well as another email from his land lord asking him where the rent for last month is.

Chellick, so overwhelmed by the things going through his head, goes so far as to remove his omni-tool entirely and push it well away from himself. He rests his head in his hands and tries to fight off all the horrible things going through his head.

All of the terrible things.


	7. Chapter 7: Vigilante

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUSTICE**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 7**

**VIGILANTE**

**##########################################################**

**Today is the 26****th**** of January, 2174. I am heading beneath the eyesore known as Ba's Original Oriental Cuisine into Vaas's workshop in Upper Kithoi. Today a scourge is born.**

I poke my head into Vaas's workshop. "Vaas? You here?"

"Yeah! Follow the music!" Vaas calls back to me, turning up the volume of the music.

I follow the sound and find my way to the rear of the workshop in a firing range-like locale. "Hey, Vaas. What's going on?"

"I finished your gear and kept it to your specifications." Vaas says, toying with something on his omni-tool. "It was a real pain in the dick to have to tweak something every time you came in here but I made it work."

"Good, good." I say nodding with enthusiasm. "So what're we doing?"

"Thought I'd give you a little rundown of what the tech does." Vaas says. "If you'll direct your attention down range…"

I look down the range and see a black suit that appears to be skin tight stretched out in a rack. From here I can see thick white seams and very subtle thin green luminescent lines streaking their way across the shiny surface like the lines between muscles

"This is the plate carrier, the under armor suit that your plates attach to." Vaas says. "It's wear and tear, cut and stab resistant. It'll assist in the prevention of concussion based injuries, whether that be from falls, impacts or from explosions. It's dustproof, waterproof, and abrasion resistant and it's heat and cold resistant as well and it's also flame retardant. It's fitted with nano fibers that act as a secondary nervous system that alert you to armor damage and sense what you want from the armor. It's comfortable and once it is hooked up to your armor it can auto apply medi-gel to any part of your body, besides your head which it clearly doesn't cover."

To punctuate his explanation robotic arms with blades, guns, and various other instruments of destruction come out of the floor and the ceiling near the suit. One arm blasts it with a generous helping of flame from a flame thrower and the suit comes out no worse for wear, the flames not lingering for a second. Another arm slashes at it with a blade and the suit just jiggles around in response taking it like a dull spoon against leather, a part of the suit flashing with eerie green light. Finally a robot arm featuring a small gun opens fire, its bullets either bouncing off or ripping into the first layer only to get trapped inside the suit itself, the impact areas flashing with green light before fading away.

"Nice." I say.

Vaas nods. "Top of the line, my very own design as well. Nothing like it in the galaxy. People try. But they all fail. Next up the plates themselves."

The rack with the suit slides away and a black semi-lustrous plate of armor slides into view.

"This armor is composed of four layers of protection, one more than general armors carry but admittedly one less than some of the heavier gears. I could've done one more but I negated it because you said you wanted mobility." Vaas explains. "Layer one is a simple aluminum-carbide alloy flexible plate with several dense polymers serving as the casing. Behind the alloy plate, but still part of the first layer, is a nice helping of meteorite metal shavings as well as some iron and manganese. When a round hits this layer a small chemical reaction takes place and the layer hardens into a super dense armor that also swells slightly, filling any holes made in the alloy plate and the poly casing. The polymer casing is also extremely dense thanks to a molding technique I perfected and it actually will produce most of the protection. After this initial plate comes the ceramic duro-plate. The ceramic plate is weaved with hyper-dense metals and in addition to this the thin ceramic sheets are layered in such a way into the plate that it makes them extra resilient to breakage or impacts. Next is a soft gel layer that'll protect against falls, impacts and concussions that'll work in tandem to the one inside your suit. It'll also liquefy when it is hit with high impact, say a bullet actually penetrates those layers. The gel has an experimental clotting agent in it, like medi-gel but not medigel. Finally is the kevlar-nomex textile weave that adds both comfort, durability and support to your armor plates. Because of the way your plates and ceramic armoring is done your armor plates can actually flex and bend to an extent."

The robot arms set the plate on fire, shoot it, slash it and bash it and the plate stays, mostly intact with just some scratches and dents on it. The plate rotates and reveals that it's still okay on the opposite side. Even so, it still doesn't mean that all that stuff won't hurt.

"I'll say I had a challenge figuring out how to make your armor, tough as sin without sacrificing your mobility as well as make it, 'subtle' or 'incognito' as you put it. So here's what I did." Vaas says, my completed armor set revealing itself out of a display stand now lit up. "Your armor is mainly focused on the upper body as you can see. Your design choice went perfectly along with the armor, might I say. Anyways, the exoskeleton and exomuscular skin work stunningly well together and you'll feel like the armor moves for you. As you can see I forwent heavy armor on the clavicle and shoulders and in the deltoids and neck in lieu of the norm in the name of all around protection. The purpose of this was to give the armor as low a profile as possible so that you could…"

Vaas produces a black jacket. "Wear this right over it. See? Sometimes the simplest ideas are the best ones. Your leg armor is easy too. Unlike the upper body stuff which is all interlocking plates, it comes in separate plates for the thighs, knees and shins so you can just take those right off, collapse them and store them in a backpack. Just snap them right on over pants, too easy. Finally, as per your request, I got this for you. It was tricky to find one for your guns but I found it."

What he's referring to is a shoulder holster that I can wear over my armor so I can holster my revolvers right in convenient shoulder holsters. This way they won't get in the way and I can draw them fast. Did I mention that it's one of those custom Maxus holsters that serve as quick draw as well? Yeah. You fucking know.

"Finally your helmet." Vaas holds that up to me himself. "It was a bit tricky to keep it compact. All you need to do is put this cap part on your head and the helmet will do the rest. Be mindful of your hair or it might get caught in some of the moving parts. It's one whole piece now but it comes in separate parts if you need to take it off in a pinch, just in case. Did you bring the pants and boots I told you to bring?"

I nod.

"Good. Let's get you started. You're going to have to strip down to your skivvies." He says.

I move over to my armor stands and remove most of my clothing, leaving my underwear. I pick up his under armor suit and tug it on with some difficulty due to the sheer snugness of it. The suit covers my entire body, from my individual fingers to my individual toes to the base of my jawline and top of my neck, leaving just my head exposed. I pull on the pants I brought, some black combat fatigues with pockets and tactical application capabilities and blouse them into the black matte combat boots I brought as well.

I put on the leg armor first. The leg plates are large and heavy but strap on comfortably and don't move an inch when they're on. The lower leg guards cover the top of my foot, toe and the heel of my boot connecting to the shin guard which covers my entire shin and calf, front and back. The armor itself is a dusky grey, with silver accents where the shape shifts geometrically along, say, the curve of my calf muscles towards my ankles. The knee cap goes on comfortably, nothing really to speak of there.

Finally the thigh plates which protect the front and some of the sides of my outer thigh go on with several straps to hold them perfectly steady. I kick and flex my legs to test them, hopping around a little.

Torso next. Oh man this looks complicated. It comes as one piece. It's kind of heavy but it isn't bulky which I like. I search around it for a minute before Vaas takes it from me and removes the shoulders and arms and then opens the chest plate for me.

"Cool, thanks." I say.

I put the armor on over my head and settle it on my shoulders before pressing it shut and secure with a snap. It's form fitting and I try to bend in it and find that it make me feel stiff. Next I pull the arm armor on over my arm, finding it somewhat difficult to pull over my biceps but I manage. I secure them to the chest plate with snaps though I don't think they're entirely necessary due to the snugness of the armor itself. Finally I press the rounded shoulder pauldrons on my deltoids and they snap into place. I roll my shoulders and find they can move freely and easily.

I turn to a mirror and look at myself. Well don't I look like a fucking badass. I haven't felt this goddamn awesome since I wore that LAPD advanced riot gear. The armor if formfitting and rugged with whole plates that cover my upper arms, forearms and the backs of my hands. The pauldrons cover my whole shoulder, without a lot of bulk, they practically match my deltoids. Practically. The torso armor leaves no room for negotiation, covering every bit of me with the most exposed parts probably being my armpits, which are still protected by my plate carrier suit. The densest armor is definitely on my chest, upper back and abdomen. And as per my request a lustrous grey chevron adorns my chest with the shining silver corner near my left shoulder. An interesting detail is the glimmering silver metal spine that runs down my back, even running up from the armor itself onto my neck, clinging to the plate carrier mysteriously tight. Still fucking badass though.

"Here." Vaas says handing over my shoulder holster.

I get it on with some difficulty but manage and I slip my revolvers into each, both of them comfortably sitting in my armpits.

"And one last thing." Vaas says handing me an odd looking belt. "On the house."

I take the belt and clip it on, staring at myself in the mirror. The belt is meant to be asymmetrical, clearly. It hangs off of my right hipbone and hugs my left hip comfortably. On my right side a secondary belt loops down from the belt itself below my hip where a large black pouch with a hangs down onto my right thigh. There is another buckle for me to secure it to my hip as well. The belt itself is adorned with several pouches for all manner of things including grenades, extra heat sinks or other doodads or gizmos of my choosing. As a final especially strange but oddly charming detail, from the left side of my belt hang several long strips of heavy thick black material with diamond shaped ends. The strips feel weighted but it might just be the cloth itself. Each strip of sable cloth shimmers oddly in the light contrasting to my armor's pitch black visage. This surely purely cosmetic detail hangs about mid- thigh and wraps about halfway around my buttock, equating to about seven strips.

"What's this supposed to be?" I ask him, brushing the strips with my hand. "Some kind of battle skirt?"

"Hey! That's… Yeah kind of." Vaas says admitting to it with a shrug. "Batarian warriors of Ta'samach of the 1,000 Days in ancient times would have rights of passage for the rites of slaughter. The Warriors would endure pain and spill the blood of their enemies until they proved themselves worthy of the Da'Sha, or what you call a battle skirt. It's a symbol of strength and of combat prowess and virility. The Ta'Samach ruled over an empire that encompassed half of Khar'Shan for a millennia before it fell. Their history is in the blood of every batarian. But their legacy, the Da'Sha is something only a rare few wear. Wear that 'battle skirt' and all batarians shall fear your strength, some might even join you out of sheer respect."

"Why am I wearing it?" I ask. "I'm not batarian."

"I connected the dots and figured that you desire anonymity. If you wear the Da'Sha, most will assume you're batarian. In the armor, your body shape alone could mistake you for it. It'll assist in your attempts to hide your identity." Vaas says.

"That sounds… useful actually." I say with an appreciative nod. "Thanks."

"Oh, you still haven't tried on the helmet yet." Vaas says.

He hands me the heavy helmet and I put it on top of my head. The helmet sensing what I'm doing, activates. Plates slide out from either side and cover my cheeks and the vast majority of my face. A blade-shaped plate slides out the center of the helmet and covers my nose and most of my upper lip, attaching to the plates that slid out seconds before. Two robotic arms come down from the sides and attach themselves to the cheek plates along my jawline. One carries a large black plate that attaches to the other arm over my chin, covering the rest of my mouth and chin. Plates from the arms slide out and attach below my jaw, just barely avoiding cutting open my throat. Plates shutter down to cover the back of my head, ears and most of my neck and a long silver metal appendage slides out from the back of my head and attaches to the metal spine. Finally elongated black lenses of textured opaque material cover my eyes with an audible 'snick.' The world is just as clear as it was before with a bonus HUD help me operate in combat, including a short range radar that detects heartbeats, a vital signs and kinetic barrier tracker and finally a display that tells me the status of my weapons.

"This is very impressive." I say, shocked to hear my voice changed to sound two or three octaves lower than normal along with a distinct warbling vibrato to it.

I look at myself in the mirror and find that the overall visage of the helmet is very feline, regal yet dangerous looking. Very lion-like without making me look too inhuman, even though that is my new goal apparently.

"You know your armor isn't even turned on yet." Vaas says. "That's why it's a bit difficult to move. This won't be pleasant."

He opens his omni-tool and types some things into it. There's an audible hum as my armor comes to life. I feel like I get larger as the gel insert in the suit swells a bit, getting tighter. I hear the metallic sinister looking spine on my back make some disturbing noises, namely metal on metal clacking like a robotic spider running across a steel floor, before the metal spine starts moving me on its own.

I feel something attaching itself to my armor plates, down the sides of my legs to attach to each leg plate only stopping at the ankle. It also attaches across the back of my shoulders and down my arms. As the spine moves me, I take a peek at what it was and find that it was the exoskeleton, little more than thin black strips that don't look like they could possibly make me any stronger.

I opt not to fight back against the armor as it moves my arms, even flexes my fingers one by one, takes a few steps, bends me over, straightens me, twists and turns me. It's calibrating. I think… I hope.

The gel insert in the plate carrier contracts and swells every now and then, making me feel like I'm getting shit out by a giant. Not only does that feel strange but as the subtle green lights on my plate carrier, only visible on my hands at this point, pulse along with my skin tingling in unison with the pulsing lights.

I feel the spine on my back moving unpleasantly, constantly readjusting and shifting to search for the perfect fit. I think. I hope. I feel it tightening against my body, sealing itself to me.

Inside of my helmet green lights pass over my eyes and face, scanning me, learning me, no doubt.

Finally the unpleasantness of feeling like I'm wearing somebody else's skin and they have all the control ends and I fall to my knees. Suddenly I don't feel weighed down by this armor nor do I feel stiff. I don't feel stiff at all actually. I might as well be naked based on how much movement freedom I have. I get to my feet, relishing the feeling of being lighter than air at the moment. I look at myself in the mirror and grin at the sight of my armor alight with green lights all over, particularly the spine and my helmet's eyes.

"What's going on?" I ask Vaas looking at my hands. "I feel like I'm floating."

"Two things are happening." Vaas says. "Your armor's gel interior is constantly readjusting its density and thickness to accommodate your weight, that's why it feels like you're sort of weightless. Second your armor's exoskeleton in addition to the pneumatic movement actuators are assisting your movement which is why it's so much easier to bend and move. In addition to that, your exoskeleton increases your body's ability to support weight, so in theory, you might be able to hold a car on your shoulders, though you may not be able to pick it up. Also your exoskeleton and plate carrier will be able to help you survive longer falls. Nothing ridiculous like several stories but you could definitely walk away from… 40 feet of continuous falling? 50 if you're bold."

"This is fucking spectacular!" I shout with glee. "I've never used anything like this ever!"

"Alright now, I'm going to tell you this now, I had trouble with the radiation shield." Vaas says. "It's in there but it isn't active all the time. That's because I had trouble with a power source. Your armor has so much power draw to begin with that I needed to put in a secondary power unit to accommodate the radiation shield alone. And because of the fact that I couldn't risk adding volume to the armor so the power for the shield is very limited. Basically it'll only work when you want it to so you'll have to turn it on yourself but I made that easy for you. All you need to do is twist that little subtle switch in your belt buckle and it's good to go. Keep in mind though that it'll only activate when your armor detects a gunshot. It's powerful enough to stop pretty much anything short of explosives but it won't do a damn thing against biotics. I'd estimate that your radiation shield could withstand about 5 to 7 seconds of continuous fire from weapons without losing power. It's risky that's for sure but it's got good combat potential. It is more than a little unstable however." Vaas pauses as I examine my belt buckle. "Even though you told me not to worry about it I'm going to warn you anyways that the radiation shield will not have any positive effects on your body, other than protecting you from harm."

Biotics? I wave him off. "Don't worry about that. No need. How about those 'fail safes?' The 'Counter Measures?'"

"They're in there." Vaas says. "And as per your most recent requests, if your heart stops beating your armor's kill function will initiate automatically, if your armor is attempted to be removed forcedly, or if your armor loses function due to non-lethal incapacitation method such as EMP pulses your armor will prompt you to ask if you wish to kill and you can go yes or no. This will work regardless of whether your armor has primary power or not so you don't need to worry about it failing because it won't. There's also a kill switch in case you want to do it yourself which I thoroughly advise against, but if you've got no other option all you need to do is select the option from your omni-tool. It'll ask you if you're sure like five times before it actually does it."

"Sounds all good." I say. "Thanks Vaas. I'll get plenty of use out of this."

"It's going to be 16,589 credits." Vaas says crossing his arms.

Without a second word I transfer the funds and pay him what he's due. He grins wide.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Jack." He says.

"Now…" I start. "I don't think I can stress just how quiet this needs to stay. Nobody can know where I got this armor. No one can know my name. No one can be able to connect this armor to me. I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you. If I come across a problem I will come find you and I will kill you."

Vaas narrows his eyes at me. "Get the fuck out of my workshop."

I turn around, leaving, taking the jacket to conceal my armor with me. When I get to the stairwell I move to quickly remove my leg armor and put it in my back pack, but to my shock the armor snaps off of me by itself and, carried by the exoskeleton arms attached to the spine, is collapsed and stored along my sides and spine. I motion to remove my helmet but much to my equal surprise my armor does it for me, my helmet collapsing back into itself before disappearing into my jacket, carried away by the metal spine on my back. I think about putting my leg armor and my helmet back on and my armor does so with impressive speed as well.

Well. That'll come in handy.

I remove my leg armor and helmet and I make sure my jacket covers most of my armor and walk out of the stairwell into the restaurant. The jacket is thick black cloth that I don't recognize. In certain light the jacket has a nice sheen to it but otherwise it absorbs most light. It has a few pockets and a pull up collar.

Alright let's see just how incognito these clothes are. I walk out of the restaurant and straight out onto the street. I eye people as I walk to gauge just how much people look at me. No more than usual. Alright so I guess I'm good.

Now.

The crusades begin.

**##########################################################**

**Later that evening, once the streets have cleared of almost everyone and the air has settled and sleep and silence has taken over the night, I prepare myself for my first kill in my crusades, the first of many no doubt.**

I squat in an alley. The streets are clearing. People are leaving their jobs and going home to rest for the next day. And crime will wake soon. And if I see crime I will stop it but that's not what I'm after tonight.

No. I'm after people in particular. In the week I was waiting for my armor I did my research. I found criminals, murderers and rapists released on bail or on shortened sentences for various reasons or even due to troubles with the trials themselves. I have five targets tonight and they'll be the first marks of my war against the crime on the Citadel.

I clear my throat and check the time again. Time to go. I remove my backpack and strap on my leg armor and belt with the battle skirt or Da'Sha I think Vaas called it. I'm not wearing it for the reasons he gave or for cosmetic purposes but because the belt is useful. It's got pouches and such. Alright I'll give. I also think it looks kind of cool.

I make sure my leg armor and belt sit properly before I remove my jacket and fold it up, making it as compact as possible before stuffing it away in the large leg pouch on my belt. Thankfully it doesn't take up very much room. I also take out a thin grey cloth bag that are actually fancy shopping bags that I took from some clothing store a few days ago but they'll do their job well. I take a handful of black plastic zip ties out of my bag as well and put them in my leg pouch along with the grey cloth bag. I stow my backpack behind a crate and push the crate back towards the wall a bit, concealing my bag nicely.

I think about putting my helmet on and it does so. That will never cease to wow me. I peek out of the alley and check for people. Deserted.

Good.

Well…

I kind of want people to find this.

That gets me thinking… I want to send a message… so… Yeah that's a good idea. I walk out of the alley and into the apartment building immediately to my left. I walk up to the sleeping door clerk who sits behind a solid piece of what I assume is bulletproof glass.

I transfer 100 credits into a credit chit and tap on the glass. He jolts awake and fumbles for a bit before looking at me. His tired eyes widen at me.

"Uh…" He starts.

I hold up the credit chit. "I forgot the code to get in."

The clerk blinks as I push the credit chit through the small slot in the window. He eyes me once more before hitting a button and buzzing open the door. Before I push my way through I hold up one finger and put it to where my lips would be on my helmet, and as an added effect my helmet has a line about where my mouth is where the two parts of my helmet connect together so there's a nice additional badass factor. I will say that my voice sounds very unnecessarily sinister but I have no idea how to change it to something a little more friendly, so, oh well. I'll work with it.

I walk through the security door and walk up the stairs. According to the building's directory, he lives on the second floor in the middle room.

I find the correct room. I pause to examine the door. No conventional lock. There's probably some high tech security on this door. I scan it with my omni-tool and find that I'm correct. There's a silent alarm that'll call the cops if I try to force the door.

I rap on the door hard and step out of the way of the peep hole but leaving enough of me in view that he knows I'm there.

I bang on the door a few more times. Loud obnoxiously noisy knocking in the middle of the night? Nobody would be happy. All would be suspicious. How to disarm him? How do I lower his guard so that he opens the door?

I could continually annoy him with my door knocking but I think I'll go for a simpler approach. I check to make sure there are no cameras or security devices before I take my helmet off and put my face very close to the peep hole so that he knows it's a person there but I'm too close to recognize me as anybody.

I bang on the door again.

"Stop with your fucking banging on my door!" I hear on the other side of the door. "Who the fuck is it? Who are you?"

"Courts sent me, Tom." I say taking on a fake voice, keeping my face down in case of separate surveillance equipment. "Your parole officer needs to talk to you."

"I talked to her today, fucker!" The mark snaps back. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Bounty hunter." I respond. "Your bail jumped. I'm not here to take you anywhere I'm only here because your parole officer wanted me to come talk to you."

I hear the lock disengage and I put my helmet back on as the door opens.

"What- Oh shit!" The mark exclaims.

I rush into his apartment and grab him by the throat, shutting the door behind me. I push him back into his shabby poorly maintained apartment and towards the window. I squeeze firmly but not enough to knock him out, just enough to make him uncomfortable, my fingers and thumb digging in behind the tendons of his neck

I look at him through my helmet.

"Agh!" The mark grunts. "Let me go! Who the fuck are you?!"

"I'm the man who's going to kill you, rapist." I growl.

"Oh please no." He whimpers. "I did my time!"

"Two months held here on the Citadel?" I ask with a small laugh. "Get daddy to pay your bail? How many times have you raped since then? Who have you hurt? Tell me you son of a bitch. Tell me and I won't hurt you so badly."

"Fuck off!" He gasps in fear.

I grab one of his hands wrapped around my wrist and squeeze his hand, cracking his knuckles, breaking his fingers in several different places. Just as he screams I reposition my hand on his neck and squeeze to prevent the noise from escaping, turning his howl of agony into a choked whimper.

"What have you done?" I whisper to him. "Tell me. Confess."

"No… I raped that one girl but that's all!" He sobs. "I didn't rape no one else. I swear!"

"That wasn't what I asked." I say. "What sins have you committed since? I know you have. Who have you hurt? What have you done?"

"Drugs, booze, hurt people." He says. "I done some bad shit but I don't deserve to die man!"

"You do." I say. I drag him towards his kitchen and find a large kitchen knife before dragging him back to the wall near the window.

I put my finger to my simulated lips and shush him. Before slowly letting go of his neck and stepping back just slightly. He visibly relaxes but I slash him across the throat with the knife and his blood squirts out in a powerful spray hitting me and a lot of the surrounding area. There won't be any shortage of evidence, that's obvious.

The mark clutches at his bleeding throat, choking and coughing. He slides down the wall slowly and I kneel in front of him. While he's still dying I cut two straight lines down the center of his eyes, about two inches in length over each eye.

I rip open his shirt, as blood spills down his chest and stab my knife into his torso, just deep enough to make an obvious cut. I use the knife to cut in the word 'RAPIST' in his chest before moving to the window I open the window and look outside at the street again. Still no one. Good.

I take out the grey cloth bag and pull it down over his head, zip tying it secure around his neck. I gently press the material of the bag against his eyes and stain the bag with blood from the wounds on his eyes, looking like two vertical eyes. I find some sheets and rip them to length and tie them to his wrists I secure the sheets to objects attached to his floor or walls that are sturdy enough to hold his weight. As one final detail I take the knife I used to kill him and stab it deep into his pelvic bone, just above his genitalia, through his pants. I move him over to the window and toss him out. I hear an audible snap as his arms dislocate out of their sockets but he stays up the air, hanging for all to see.

That'll get some attention. I hop out of the window as well and use one of the sheets to lower myself down some before dropping to the ground. I look at my handiwork. Beauty. One down, four criminals left to kill and display for all to see.

**##########################################################**

**Less than an hour later, I have come to the Presidium to hunt an arguably more sinister being than the last… Death will do this one no favors. It's my first time on the Presidium and it's to kill someone. Well… I'm told that you only come to the Presidium for business anyways. But this may be somewhat personal.**

I climb up over the planter, the coils of heavy black rope wrapped around my torso and I pull myself into the office of my next mark. My first time on the Presidium and it's to kill a criminal. I approach his desk, where he sits working diligently on something.

"Working late tonight?" I ask drawing my Maxus.

He jumps and spins around in his chair. He gasps and his eyes widen and he tumbles out of his chair moving to get back to his feet, no doubt to run.

"Rethink that decision." I say, gesturing with the hand cannon. "I suggest you stay calm and stay on my good side. Or try, for what good that'll do for you."

The mark shivers in fear.

"You were acquitted of your recent trial." I say walking up to him, looming over him. "One of the officers got evidence illegally. It was a mistrial…"

"Is that what this is about?" He asks. "I was found innocent by a jury of my peers! I'm innocent dammit!"

"No you're not." I say kneeling next to him, the barrel of my revolver pressed into his face.

He stares at me for a while, looking for words. "You're… No! Fuck you!"

"You're not innocent." I say, pushing his head to the floor with my revolver. "You're scum. You're a monster."

"Shut up." He says glaring at me. "Shut up!"

"You don't confess outright but your guilt is written all over you. In your words, on your face, in your eyes." I say removing the rope from my body. "You're nothing. You're disgusting, worthless, useless filth. You're trash, not even worthy to scrape shit off of my boots."

"Fuck you!" He screams at me. "You're the monster!"

"No I'm not." I say. "You are. You are the thing that hides under the bed of those kids you hurt. I'm here to end their nightmares once and for all."

I slam my revolver across his head, hitting him hard enough to thoroughly disorient him but not knock him entirely unconscious. I drop the rope on the ground and zip tie his hands together behind his back.

I take the rope and bring it to a column and tie a French bowline to the column. I follow the rope back, measuring it out to the open balcony I add about 15 feet to the measurement before taking it back to my mark. I measure a foot or two more before using my omni-blade to cut it off. I tie a noose around the part attached to the column and tighten the noose around the mark's neck. He struggles weakly.

I then move to his desk and drag it over to the balcony. I lift the heavy object and put one of its edges on the railing and tie around the desk for even tension tying that rope to the mark's ankles. I move back to my mark. I tear open his shirt and use my omni-blade to cut the word 'PEDOPHILE' into his chest. He screams in pain and struggles weakly. I straddle his torso and grab his face firmly activating my omni-blade with the other I make a cut over each of his eyes. He writhes weakly against me. I straighten and look down at him. I usually feel something for my kills. Not this one.

He seems to have become lucid again, blinking blood out of his eyes and watching me as I move to the desk. I look at him and I see him realize what's about to happen.

"No! No don't!" The mark screams and starts struggling.

I lift the desk off of the railing and push it off the balcony. I hop out of the way as the mark is dragged by the weight of the desk straight out the balcony his screaming body sailing past like a locomotive.

I watch the rope uncoil for a second before snapping tight with a whipping noise as well as a very audible snap. I look over the edge of the balcony and smile at the sight of his dangling corpse a few stories down. I retrieve the remainder of my rope and return to the balcony.

I climb over the edge of the railing and start climbing down the rope, being careful not to touch the mark as I reach him. The way I figure it, his head is barely staying attached to his torso.

Alright two down three to go.

**##########################################################**

**The next mark is also on the Presidium. Officially, an 'entrepreneur' one of his ships was seized transporting living cargo, slaves to the Terminus Systems, a lawless region of space. He was acquitted on a technicality though many believe he bribed everyone involved with his case. Sometimes money has more power than words. Today, actions will speak loudest.**

I peek around the corner of the building into the small park. I watch my mark walk out of a nearby building as somebody forces him out. He's stumbling, clearly drunk. He wanders over into the park and sits on a bench. He drinks from a tube-like container and starts mumbling to himself.

I walk over to him and sit down next to him. I draw my revolver and rest it in my lap, pointed lazily at him.

He's looking at me, eyes squinting in confusion. "Fuck?"

I chuckle. "You're very drunk, scum."

"Fuck off." He says, drinking from his tube of alcohol.

I could do this loud and messy or kind of quiet and messy. Hm. I really want to use these fucking hand cannons but there are a lot of people nearby. There are actually a few people in this park. This ought to be interesting.

I get up from my seat and holster my revolver and I stand in front of the mark. He glares at me with his beady eyes.

I activate my omni-blade and slash open his throat. His eyes go wide and he gasps and then chokes on that gasp, blood gushing from his throat as well as his mouth. I hear people scream and shout in alarm but I ignore them. I take the rope off my torso and tie his ankles together. I drag him over to the large tree in the middle of the park and I throw the rope over a large branch and start hauling him up the tree so his head is about face to face with a typical bystander, just about chest level for me.

I secure the rope to the tree and cut off the rest, coiling that up and wrapping it around my torso. Not much left. It'll all be gone by the end of the evening.

I walk around to his front, his blood pouring out of his throat, coating his face and puddling on the ground. I make my usual cuts over his eyes and tear open his shirt, cutting the word 'SLAVER' into his chest.

"Hey!" I hear behind me.

I look over my shoulder at a young human.

"Y-You stop! I called C-Sec they'll be here in less than a minute." He says. Oh my, he's got a gun.

I deactivate my omni-tool and step away from the slaver mark, showing the young man my handiwork. The young man's eyes dart between me and the corpse.

"Don't try to stop me." I say, putting a finger to where my lips would be and shushing him. "It won't end well for you."

I turn around and start sprinting away. He makes no attempt to stop me.

I duck into an alley and throw on my jacket, quickly removing my leg armor and putting my helmet away. I fold up my leg armor and take off my belt and slip my belt into my jacket, hiding them under my arms. I step out of the alley and walk nonchalantly watching a few C-Sec officers sprint past me.

I grin, pleased with this so far. This is going very well. I zip up my jacket, letting it hold my things to my body on its own. I continue walking and head towards where my next mark lives. It shouldn't be too far. I have to say, doing the research on these guys, watching them for a while, it was hard not walking up to them and killing them right there. But this is better. It was all worth it in the end.

I find a cab and take it to my next location. Stepping out of my cab I walk to the large apartment building where my mark lives. Now this is a nice fucking place. I wish I could afford a place like this. Maybe someday.

It won't be on a vigilante's paycheck that's for sure. I examine the mezzanine as I approach the building. I don't see any surveillance equipment, but it's better safe than sorry in this case, I think. I pause, kneeling out of the way so people can pass if there are any and I strap my leg armor back on while I clip my belt back on and shed my jacket as I continue walking, my helmet sliding out of where ever it hides along that metal spine on my back to close around my head. I fold my jacket and stuff it away in my leg pouch. I enter the building and take a look around.

It's an excessively well decorated space, warm and inviting with a large main desk and an occupied, well-dressed older gentleman sitting behind the main desk. There aren't stairs like other buildings but a row of large elevators with gilded doors and glass chutes that lead upwards and into the infinity.

There is a sleepy looking security guard sitting near the elevators, looking really out of it.

I walk towards the elevators, away from the guard who still has yet to notice me. I stare at the elevator panel but find no way to operate the holographic display. Some of these new gizmos put me off.

I walk up to the guard who looks up at me when I'm a few feet away. He looks awake now.

Not for long.

I grab his throat and lift up a little, roll my fingers back and squeeze. He wheezes and his eyes roll to the back of his head. I search him for some sort of key to operate the elevators but don't find anything other than some personal effects including his money and omni-tool. I leave his personal things but I take his omni-tool off and move it up to the display and it pings pleasantly, an elevator door opening. I smile and quickly check the building's registry for my mark's apartment number. I enter the elevator and step inside. I use the guard's omni-tool to send the elevator to the proper floor, a few dozen floors up. I turn to stare out of the elevator's glass wall and glass chute out at the Presidium as the elevator carries me up to the proper floor. It takes a long time, the elevator not moving very fast despite the height that I actually have to travel. Finally I arrive at the floor I want to be on and exit the elevator. The room I find myself in is very large and circular with only three large apartment doors there to greet me. I enter the proper one, the one closest to my left, again using the guard's omni-tool to gain access.

I close the door quietly and walk around the apartment, walking slowly, taking in the wealth of the home. Confusing art pieces, a kitchen with more space than is actually necessary, a large open lounge area, complete with personal bar and an absolutely stunning view of the Presidium's nighttime skyline. It's getting close to morning. I need to finish this.

I walk past the humongous kitchen on my right with a small personal library, with contemporary rug, large plush chairs and ottomans and a few bookshelves as tall as two men standing on each other's shoulders. I walk towards the lounge and bar but take a right, entering a wide hall with a few doors. I open the first few and find superfluous rooms that I personally don't find quite necessary considering the large main room I'd just seen. Even so I find a large room with a curious antechamber that leads into an almost unnecessarily spacious master bedroom. My mark is fast asleep, as he ought to be, it is rather late.

I approach my target, lying, sleeping soundly in his bed. I look down at him. Why wake him? I walk away from him and stand a few feet away from his bed. I'm somewhat ashamed of this, but this is going to be fun.

I draw both of my Maxus revolvers and square myself with my target, my feet shoulder width apart. I level my revolvers with his prone body and breathe out slowly. I start pulling the triggers as fast as I can pull the triggers, the massive rounds from my revolvers tearing into his body and bed. Once I've fired off all twelve rounds of my two revolvers, I lower the smoking guns slowly and walk up to my mark.

Well. He's all sorts of fucked up. I missed a little less than half the time I think but I killed him real good. I holster my right revolver and gently open the tattered remains of his night shirt and use my omni-tool to cut the words 'DRUG LORD' into his chest also making two vertical cuts over his eyes. This guy did more than deal drugs but his rap sheet is too long to carve into his chest. This generalizes it well enough.

"Hey! Freeze!" I hear. I look to my left, my omni-blade still engaged and partially buried in the criminal's face.

In the doorway a trio of security guards are standing all with handguns trained on me, one is speaking into his omni-tool, no doubt calling C-Sec.

I deactivate my omni-blade and straighten.

"I said don't fucking move!" The lead guard says. "Don't move or we'll shoot!"

I slowly walk away from the dead man's bed, walking very slowly over to the center of the room. I face them again.

"Drop the fucking weapon!" The lead guard shouts at me.

They have no power here. Very, very slowly, I holster the revolver in my right shoulder holster, listening to it snap home. I then slowly raise my hands above my head. They approach slowly, but stop still a fair bit away. I can't be caught yet, that's no good. I shouldn't kill them, even though my rules dictate that I can. Killing an innocent person tonight would be counterproductive towards my goal.

I take a step towards them and they tense.

"Hey!" The lead one says, making me stop. "Don't fucking move! I said don't move dammit!"

"You should walk away." I say, my voice drawing with a sinister eerie chill.

"Don't move dammit!" The lead one commands again, the other two spreading out slightly, widening the circle around me.

I take a few more steps forward, noticing how they all back away from me. "Walk away."

"No!" The lead guard shouts. They're afraid.

Good.

I bolt, straight for the door, but the lead guard is still in my way. He takes a few shots at me and I feel them hit me but I keep moving, knocking him out of the way with ease. I bolt out of the room and into the hallway. I sprint out into the main room and out of the apartment back into the elevator. I hit the command for the lobby floor and watch the doors shut, the other guard sprinting, trying to catch up but failing by a long shot.

I turn around and look out towards the Presidium. About halfway back down to the ground floor, I notice several dark blue and silver vehicle speeding towards the building.

C-Sec.

Damn, they'll stop me at the elevator.

I sigh and stop to think. I come up with a new escape plan in a few seconds flat. I take a non-lethal flashbang grenade out of a pouch on my belt and place it on the ground, set to detonate in 45 seconds, which by my estimate will mean it'll detonate a few seconds after the elevator reaches the ground. That still won't do because they'll still know I wasn't in the elevator to begin with thanks to these damn see through doors, so I take a smoke grenade out and hold it ready in my left hand.

I draw my revolver and shoot up, blasting through the glass on top of the elevator. I climb out of it and drop the smoke grenade into the elevator, set to detonate a few seconds from now. I then shoot the glass elevator chute a few times, shattering it before leaning back and throwing myself through it.

I fall for a few seconds before landing on my chest on the slanted glass wall that is the rest of the elevator chute. I roll to the side and pivot my body off of the glass chute so that they can't see me sliding down.

It takes me a just a few more seconds to reach the ground, or as close to it as I'm going to get. I leap off of the slanted wall onto a bridge leading to a shopping center.

I look back at the elevator and see it's filled with bright green smoke. A few seconds later there's a blinding flash of light and a dull bang, followed by many more dull bangs. I laugh to myself quietly. I will never cease to be amazed by the predictability of sentient beings. All jumpy in the face of danger. While they're having a pointless shootout with an elevator full of smoke for the next few minutes, I can make my escape.

I run quickly to the nearest cab terminal, not seeing a single person along the way. I take one back to the Wards, Teyseri Ward to be exact. The ride takes several minutes, but I arrive rather close to my mark, thank goodness.

This next mark likes to frequent a particular nightclub. Supposedly, according to her trial, nightclubs are where she liked to select her targets: lonely, young, single males of any species. Supposedly her motive was that she was enacting revenge for being raped by a group of men fitting similar descriptions at a nightclub a few years ago. She, however, did not exact revenge on the specific men who took advantage of her and instead targets all men. This is not justified, and despite her unfortunate circumstances, she must be punished severely.

I did some digging. Obviously the nightclub she usually frequented wouldn't let her back in after her trial, of which she was acquitted due to lack of damning evidence. Where most detectives and lawyers can't put the pieces together, I can. I know she was the one who killed all those men and she will be punished for this.

I make my way to the nightclub, choosing to remain fully armored and not incognito. In a crowd, it won't matter anyways. I find the nightclub quickly, following the deep chest rattling bass that grows more intense with every step. I notice that there is a meager line to get inside but I head straight up to the bouncer and hand him a credit chit with 125 credits on it. He nods me inside, looking confused by my attire but not really caring.

I make my way into the nightclub, the deep bass heavy electronica making the plates of my armor rattle together uncomfortably and the gel insert to vibrate and jiggle uncontrollably. I briefly think about how it might have an effect on the structural integrity of my armor but I let that thought pass as I see my mark. She's sitting at the bar, young, very pretty, innocent in appearance and demeanor, just begging for every young, horny male or female to come up and talk to her. From there she would remain shy and introverted for a small time, pretending to enjoy their conversation despite her own shyness. Then she would amp up her flirtations, becoming a little more forward, touching her target no matter how much it disgusted her. She would then ask them home, and on the way she would act like a helpless damsel in distress, jumping in fear and surprise at every sound and cringing away from every person and shadow that they pass. Once they were in her home, she would cut the major tendons of their legs from behind them and drag them by the hair to her bathroom, where she would put them under blazing hot water and cut and slice away at their helpless forms until they died from blood loss, none of the cuts deep enough to kill, but all excruciatingly painful. She would then dispose of the body by cutting up the corpse into small pieces and removing the bits of corpse in trash bags among other trash over the course of several days.

She's meticulous, intelligent and ruthless. Too bad she couldn't apply any of that to lawful pursuits like me.

I walk up to her, sitting at the bar facing away from me. Should I kill her here?

No. I'll get her to take me home and kill her there. That'll be interesting. You like to test fire, don't you Jack? You want to see just how hot you can make that fire. Fire is always hot Jack. Just kill her here! Shoot her in the head, leave your mark and escape as the crowd disperses! What if she gets the better of you! What if she kills _you, _Jack?

I laugh at myself. Even though I know that this isn't a good idea, I can't help myself. This is just the way I am. I need a challenge. Sure, I could just shoot her right here, but where's the fun in that?!

I walk up to the bar, searching for any surveillance equipment and finding none. At least none that I can see. I get to the bar and put my back against it, standing next to her, watching the crowd for any lingering gazes and finding none. Nobody cares, they're having too much of a good time. Of course.

"Hi there." My mark says to me, looking at me and smiling, shyly. "You're… dangerous looking."

I look at her and then down at myself and back to her and I eye her up and down slowly. "Is that what you're into?"

She smiles, still shyly. "Well… I don't know. I've never been with someone dangerous."

Maybe you just haven't been with someone as dangerous as yourself. Or more dangerous in my case. "You won't know unless you try it, I suppose."

"How do I know you're not some ugly scarred up old guy behind that helmet?" She asks, flirtatiously.

As if that mattered to her.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see." I respond, opening just the bottom half of my helmet, revealing my lips and jawline before closing it again.

"Tease. You're very forward." She comments, smiling wryly, touching my arm and biting her lip as she does, eyes locked on my arm.

"I know what I want." I say, turning to her putting my hand on her thigh, my gloved fingers just going beneath the hem of her dress, lifting it just enough for me to see her lace panties.

Her whole body tenses, She puts her hand on my wrist, pushing my hand off her thigh, her other hand on my chest. She lost her composure. Touching her like that almost sent her over the edge of rage but she hides it well. She turns her tense discomfort into a flirtatious look up at me.

"Not here." She says. "Let's go back to my place."

I straighten and gesture towards the door. She smiles and hops off of the stool, taking my hand and leading me through the crowd. Once outside she wraps her arms around mine and we walk through the streets towards her home.

I silently let her lead me. At some point she flinches away from a noise from a dark alley and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. I dwarf her a good deal but I know size has nothing to do with effectiveness. She could kill me if she got the upper hand on me. For all I know she might be some kind of martial arts badass. I am nothing of the sort. My hand to hand fighting style is derived from 200 years of survival based brawling. Whatever I can do to give myself the upper hand in a fight, I'll take it.

She leads me into an apartment building and I follow her as she unlocks a few doors leading up to her apartment. Once inside she shuts the door behind us.

"Make yourself at home, I'm just going to get some water, do you want some?" She asks.

I nod.

What woman in her right mind would take a man fully armored home without even seeing his face? I turn around towards the noise of running water and ice falling from a dispenser in a refrigerator into glass.

I sigh and decide that it'd be better to not let her get the upper hand on me so I draw my revolver and stride into the kitchen. The funny thing is, I feel a tinge of remorse for what I'm about to do, yet when I walk into her kitchen I see her reaching for a knife from her cutlery set. Instantly I feel better about what's about to happen.

She looks at me, eyes wide, not in fear but more in a sort of 'I'm in trouble' look. Her eyes dart to the gun in my hands and she glares, ready to fight it seems!

She hurls a glass full of water at my head and it shatters against my helmet, doing no harm to me whatsoever. She collides into me, stabbing at my armor with her knife but it doesn't do anything against it. I plant my hand in her chest and shove her back, hard. She slams into the refrigerator and I waste no time in allowing her to recover. I lunge forward and slash with my arm, my omni-blade slicing open her throat. She gasps, blood spilling out of her neck.

I let my helmet come off and frown at her as she dies. I perform my general modus operandi by cutting her eyes and then cutting the words 'SERIAL KILLER' into her back rather than her chest out of respect for the fact that she's a female. Then I ponder on why that should make a difference at all to me but what's done is done. Maybe I'll carve the crime into all their backs instead of their chests from now on. Or maybe I'll only do the backs to the females… or maybe I'll just drop the whole carving thing because it takes so long.

I drag her by the arm out of her kitchen and towards her front door, my helmet closing over my head again. I drag her bleeding, lifeless corpse out of her apartment, down the hall and out of her apartment building all together. I bring her to the middle of the street and position her so she's in a fetal position on her side before walking away, nobody around to see it happen.

It doesn't take me long to find the nearest Warehouse chute. I return to the Warehouse, thoughts pounding through my head. I enter the Warehouse itself and head go to where my bedroll and pillow are laid out, on a cot next to a small square crate with a portable electric lamp.

I sit on the edge of my bed and set about removing my armor, having some difficulty at first but managing eventually. Once out of my armor and completely naked, I unroll my bedding and lay down to sleep, removing my omni-tool and placing it on the makeshift nightstand, but not before setting my alarm to wake me at 8 AM, only about four hours from now.

I lie there for a while, staring at the dusty ceiling of my warehouse, thinking. I think about how that doing the things I did today, killing these evil people made me really feel like myself, more than it has in a long time. Is it possible that this is some kind of strange vice? And then I think about how, for my last mark, I wasn't nervous talking to her despite the fact that she was a woman and that I had to at least try and seduce her. I know that I only acted that way because she was a killer and the only thing I intended to do was kill her in the first place. But why can't I be more confident when talking to normal women? What's wrong with me?

I close my eyes and fall asleep very quickly, and for the first time in a long time, I actually dream.

In my dream, I'm travelling through a field of white waist high grass towards snowy mountains. The air is icy but the sun above me is hot. For a while I think I'm walking but I'm actually running. I look back and see somebody chasing me but they're so far off in the distance it doesn't even matter.

I just keep running towards the mountains, never seeming to get any closer at all.

**##########################################################**

**And while the hero of this story, Jack sleeps soundly, he is the a villain in another as Detective Chellick loses precious hours of rest to return to the office for news that will change his life, whether he knows it or not; whether he wants it to or not.**

Chellick races up the stairs into his precinct. He woke, less than an hour ago to his omni-tool blowing up with messages from all sorts of people. From dispatch calling him back to work, from Jordan telling him she'd meet him at the station, from his department's commander asking him where the fuck he was, from his precinct's commander demanding answers he doesn't have, even one from Executor Tomlin himself, whom Chellick has never even met personally, telling Chellick that they're going to have a word in the morning.

Chellick pants as he bursts through his precinct's doors and towards his department. The whole building is a buzz. Exhausted looking officers and workers rushing this way and that trying to get things done.

What's happening?

Chellick reaches his department and is astounded to see the room is actually completely full. It's never this full.

"Chellick!" Chellick's partner Jordan shouts running over to him. "There you are! The captain wants to see you right now, Chellick."

"What's going on, Jordan?" Chellick asks, completely out of the loop. Was there some kind of terrible crisis? Everything seemed pretty fine on the way over here but it's suffice to say that it's not a long trip in the first place.

"Some goddamn crazy shit, partner." Jordan says actually smiling however. "But the captain will brief you! Don't worry, it's good news! Kind of…"

"Kind of…" Chellick repeats while getting shoved into the captain's office, the door slamming shut behind him, and thankfully the noise of the department getting drowned out by the door.

The room is filled with cigar smoke. The batarian captain of the investigations department, Captain Fer Ba'Shaa sits behind his desk, smoking a cigar while talking on the phone with somebody. Without even looking at Chellick, Ba'Shaa gestures for Chellick to take a seat.

Chellick does as he's told and waits, politely, for Ba'Shaa to finish his phone call.

"Yes sir. Yes sir he just arrived." Ba'Shaa grunts, his voice rough even by batarian standards thanks to decades of smoking batarian cigars. "No I'm about to tell him. Alright. I'll talk to you afterwards. Yes sir."

Ba'Shaa lowers his hand from his ear and looks straight into Chellick's eyes, all four eyes of Ba'Shaa's narrowing as he smokes his cigar.

"I read your reports on your cases, Chellick." Ba'Shaa says after a second. "It made sense that the Keyzer were being targeted. It made sense that they were being targeted by the Sic Ice. I even thought your theory of soon to be gang skirmishes on the Wards was actually spot on. And then I read your second report, the one after your, actually sound one. You have nothing to back up your theory of a common _individual _in these crimes. Nothing. No evidence whatsoever, just hearsay. And yet you spent an entire day writing this 50 page report on that specific hearsay so that you could drop it on my desk, force me to read it, and by the way I have to read them no matter how stupid or long they are, rather than doing some actually _productive _police work, making attempts to prevent gangland skirmishes, as is your job as head detective for gang related incidents on the Wards. But to be fair, there are only two of you working gang related incidents on the Citadel, you and your partner."

Ba'Shaa gets up from his desk and starts pacing.

Chellick clears his throat. "Sir, if I-"

"Shut your fucking mouth." Ba'Shaa hisses before taking a drag from his cigar and continuing. "Maybe I over tasked you two. But I thought that one of my best, most experienced detectives could handle that kind of work even with a green partner. I pulled strings to get you Detective Jordan, Chellick. She may be green but she's good, and you fucking know that. And yet this is how I'm repaid for my generosity. My generosity, despite the fact that I had to fire 15 detectives since the beginning of the fiscal year. My generosity, despite the fact that I had to reduce my department, my department's budget, everything. You think I like to cut paychecks, Chellick? You think I like doing that? Do you?"

"No sir. I-"

"I said shut the fuck up, Chellick." Ba'Shaa says, taking another drag from his cigar. "And yet here I am. 'It's the chevron. It's the key.' Wasn't that in your report? 'The chevron is a symbol or represents some kind of pseudonym. This isn't the end, and it's only going to get much worse from here.' Do you know how much that sounds like complete shit, Detective? What were you trying to accomplish? Show the entire department, show me just how fucking gigantic your detective dick is by pulling some wild goddamn in hypothesis out of your ass, rubbing that shit stain of a theory all over your investigative cock and skull fucking everyone in sight with it? Is that what you were trying to accomplish, detective? Show everyone just how great you fucking are with some awesome horseshit theory that came out of nothing but a 'gut feeling?' Were you trying to beat everyone to the punch when some chevron-ed psychopath starts running around killed Keyzer affiliates? Well, congratu-fucking-lations, Detective."

"Sir, I-"

"Yup!" Ba'Shaa shouts. "Congratu-fucking-lations! You beat everyone to the punch! I should give you a fucking award for 'most outrageously specific bullshit theory to actually come true.'"

"Wait. What?" Chellick asks with a frown.

Ba'Shaa turns his terminal around and shows Chellick a freeze frame of a guy decked out head to toe in full custom combat armor slicing open the throat of a turian sitting on a park bench with an omni-blade. Not only that, but the armored culprit has the exact same chevron design as the guy from the docks attack and the club attack.

"Detective, over the last four or five hours, while everyone was sleeping soundly in their beds, this man right here…" Ba'Shaa points to the armored individual. "He's gone on an absolute killing spree."

Ba'Shaa turns over an image from a crime scene with a man hanging out of a second story apartment window by the wrists, his throat slashed, a knife embedded right above his genitalia, a bag over his head with two vertical blood stains over his eyes and the word 'RAPIST' carved into his chest. There's blood everywhere and it's a very gruesome, very obviously intentionally public crime scene.

"This one, a rapist, out on bail thanks to his father's money." Ba'Shaa says. "He was killed without anyone knowing any better. His body was found late last night, but only after it'd been out there for an hour. So far, no witness testimony or surveillance from the building itself on the description of the suspect. But MO points to the same culprit. Next."

"Next?" Chellick asks frowning. "What's going on? How many are there?"

"Five." Ba'Shaa changes over the image and Chellick's stomach twists.

The crime scene Chellick is looking at is clearly just as intentionally public and gruesome. With this one, the victim is hanging from an office on the Presidium with an open balcony, suspended by the neck from it with a rope and around his feet a whole desk weighs him down. The flesh on his neck is ripped and blood has poured over the man's corpse. His head is barely still being held onto his torso by some of the flesh still remaining and his mangled spine which is somewhat visible. Not to mention the fact that the rope actually broke his jaw when it went taught, his mouth hanging open and his face mangled obscenely, his tongue pushed out of his mangled face to a bizarre, unnatural length. His eyes, each with vertical cuts to match the ones on the last murder, bulge out of his swollen face. The word 'PEDOPHILE' is carved into this victim's chest. A pattern is revealing itself here.

"Middle aged, male, a serial pedophile who was acquitted thanks to a miscarriage of justice." Ba'Shaa says. "A well-known businessman as well. It's a wonder that he wasn't beheaded on the initial drop alone and it's a miracle that his head is still even hanging on, if you could call that a miracle. Next is a supposed slaver who was found innocent following his trial. Apparently our killer doesn't agree. This is the one that we actually caught on camera, the whole thing, thanks to a suspicious bystander who recorded the entire thing. There were several witnesses to the entire thing, lucky for us."

The next image shows the turian with his throat getting cut by the killer with the chevron hanging upside down from a tree by the ankles, blood pouring over his face, but Chellick can see the vertical cuts over his eyes as well as clearly see the word 'SLAVER' carved into his chest.

"Next is a drug king pin who's running a narcotic empire here on the Citadel and he's by far the biggest name out of our five victims." Ba'Shaa says. "He's been bringing all kinds of drugs here to the Citadel and he alone was responsible for at least 20% of the drugs getting imported to the Citadel and he deals exclusively to the Keyzer. Some of the security guards at the building caught the killer but he escaped just seconds before we got there."

An image of a dead turian lying in bed, his body and his bed punched full of large bullet holes. The words 'DRUG LORD' carved into his chest, along with vertical eye slits.

"And finally, this young lady you might recognize." Ba'Shaa says, switching the image. "She was recently put through a trial for about 10 murders over the last two years but the prosecution didn't have enough evidence and the jury sympathized with her."

Chellick does recognize the young human woman, her throat cut, lying in fetal position in the middle of a street, her eyes cut and the words 'SERIAL KILLER' carved into her back.

"Now." Ba'Shaa says. "Now that I've briefed you on all our killings, you're to report IMMEDIATELY to Executor Tomlin's office with your partner Jordan. You'll receive further instruction from there. It's 4 AM Chellick. We're short on time."

Rather than question what they lack time on, specifically, Chellick stands, nods at the Captain respectfully and leaves the office. He hurries towards the exit, Jordan following close by.

"So?" Jordan says. "What now?"

"We're going to go see the, Executor." Chellick says, sounding confident but worried.

"Now?" Jordan asks.

Chellick looks at her and sighs tiredly. "Yeah, right now."


	8. Chapter 8: Demons

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUSTICE**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 8**

**DEMONS**

**##########################################################**

**It's a little past four in the morning, on the 27****th**** of January 2174. Detective Ar Chellick steps up to the door of Executor Tomlin's office, mentally preparing himself for whatever news he's about to receive.**

Chellick sighs as he stops in front of the Executor's and sighs.

"Are you good, partner?" Jordan asks.

Chellick nods and sighs again before knocking, even though the Executor should know he's coming from his secretary.

"Come in." Chellick hears the Executor say.

Chellick opens the door and walks inside, Jordan following close behind.

"Detectives." Executor Tomlin says looking up at the pair of them. "A little early to be working isn't it?"

"Just a bit, sir." Chellick says with a nod.

"Have a seat detectives." The Executor says gesturing to the chairs. "A little early, but that's the life of an officer of the law, isn't it? The captain briefed the two of you on our little situation?"

"Yes he did sir." Chellick says with a nod.

"Good, and I read your report." The Executor says. "So, since you called it, I'm putting you in charge of this investigation."

"Sir?" Chellick asks, dread pulsing through his veins.

"Effective immediately, you and your partner are officially being moved out of gang related incidents to Special Investigations." Executor Tomlin says handing him some paper work as well as a pair of new badges marking them as SI. "That's the paperwork there, all taken care of. When you've been in as long as I have, you'll know that what we have here is no simple serial killer. This is something else entirely and it'll take us a long time to catch him. If anything this is not a serial killer we're dealing with. It might be something worse. So I suggest you get to work on that. All of your old cases are going to be handled by someone else. You two are to commit all of your focus onto catching this killer."

"Sir…" Chellick tries to find words. "I'm…"

"Sir, we're honored." Jordan says. "We'll get to work immediately."

"Good, the crime scenes need to close before the day cycle on the Presidium." The Executor says with a frown. "Get to it, Detectives. You're dismissed."

Chellick and Jordan get to their feet and leave the office, heading for their car. Chellick wanted to say more than he did. He wanted to ask if there was a raise with this position. He wanted to ask if there were fewer hours. If not, he wanted to turn down the position.

Chellick sighs again but decides to make the most of a bad situation, to suck it up and be a professional. They drive to the first crime scene and they walk up to the building. C-Sec has created a very wide cordon even though at this hour the streets are deserted. But they don't have long until the Presidium's day cycle begins.

The lead detective for this crime scene walks over to Chellick and Jordan.

"Detectives." The crime scene's lead detective says. "I've been told to give you a general idea on what we know to save you some time."

They nod but Chellick gestures to the apartment building. "Jordan why don't you head inside and take a look around anyways. I'll speak to the detective here."

"Got it partner." She says heading inside the apartment building.

"What do we know, detective?" Chellick asks walking up to look at the corpse hanging from the apartment window.

"Well, as you know this was the first in a string of five murders across the Citadel. The victim was killed about five hours ago or so. He was killed by a kitchen knife from his own kitchen and the wounds on his eyes and chest were done, post-mortem shortly after his death. His body was then positioned in its current fashion and our murderer left shortly thereafter. The body was found by a passing bystander who left the scene before we arrived." The detective says reading off from a list on his omni-tool. "We've got one person who claims to have seen the murderer. The lobbyist says that the murderer came up to him and forced him to open the security door before knocking him out, but we know that's bullshit because the murderer couldn't have gotten in there without the clerk letting him in through like four doors. We assume he was bribed by the murderer but he's not letting us on. Anyway, he was described as armored from head to toe, green lights on his armor with a silver or grey chevron on his chest."

"Is that all?" Chellick asks.

"Unfortunately, yes." The detective says. "Not much at this crime scene, the murderer was a bit more subtle… if you can call it that."

"No security footage of him?" Chellick asks.

"The building doesn't have surveillance equipment." The detective says.

"Alright, thanks for the information." Chellick says just as Jordan comes back out of the apartment building. "What'd you see?"

"Signs of a struggle, lots of blood." Jordan says. "But it's obvious the fight was a little one sided. The killer dragged him around like a doll. Next crime scene?"

Chellick nods and they return to their vehicle. On the drive to the Presidium Jordan turns to Chellick.

"Partner, you seemed a little uneasy at the Executor's office." Jordan says. "What was that about?"

"Don't worry about it." Chellick responds shaking his head.

Jordan looks like she wants to press the issue but drops it. They arrive at the crime scene near the business sector of the Presidium.

They approach the office building and cross through the cordon of officers. They find the crime scene and they both feel extremely sick. Jordan actually pukes into a nearby trashcan allocated by C-Sec for general trash and vomit.

The victim is barely being held together, his legs broken, his flesh torn, his neck shredded and barely holding his head to his torso. It also appears that he's lost his bowels, recently as well. Somebody's operating a crane to try and remove the desk from the cadaver.

"Detective Chellick." The crime scene's lead detective says approaching him. "I got the word. Here's what's I have for you. The victim is a recently acquitted pedophile. Though everyone knows he did it, so… honestly not a terrible loss in my opinion. Sorry, at any rate, here are the facts. Our murderer didn't go through the building he actually scaled the side of the building and got into the open office that way."

"It's five stories up." Chellick comments with a frown.

The detective nods. "I know right? Anyways, we have some security footage of him climbing into the office, he moved like a goddamn spider, looked as natural moving vertically as he would walking. From there we think he subdued our victim, cut his eyes and carved the word 'pedophile' into his chest before tying the noose and tying him to the desk and pushing him out of the building. We then have footage of him climbing down the rope he used to hang our victim and before he made his escape and we lost sight of him. No witnesses."

Chellick nods. "Interesting. The killer was armored?"

The detective nods. "Yup, black armor from head to toe, green lights. And the footage is a bit hazy because of the distance it's at, but he's wearing a sort of skirt thing on his hip I think. One of the boys thought it might've been coils of rope. But I'm not very sure."

"Chevron?" Chellick asks.

"Can't tell, maybe, probably. Though based on MO and general description of the other crime scene reports I've read so far… they're almost definitely the same person. The time frame is a little difficult, seeing as how this victim died within the same hour as the victim before him. It'd be difficult to pull off on your own, but it's possible, definitely." The Detective says.

"So you're saying there's a possibility there are more than one person?" Chellick asks.

The detective shrugs. "A possibility. I wouldn't throw the idea in the trash. Anyone short of a superhuman would have a tough time killing a man in the Wards then having enough time to go to the Presidium to kill someone else."

"Did you get any prints off of anything in the office? Or off the climbing equipment?" Chellick asks.

"Climbing equipment?" The detective frowns then shakes his head. "He didn't use climbing equipment."

"Wait... He... You're telling me, he climbing this sheer wall five stories up without climbing equipment?" Chellick asks, baffled. "So what then? Magnetic gloves? Drills to create footholds?"

The detective shakes his head and motions for Chellick to follow. "Nope, we're not sure quite how, but there is something you should look at."

The detective leads Chellick to the wall of the building and gestures towards it, moving the crime scene photographer out of the way. Chellick walks up to the wall and his brow furrows at what he sees there.

"We're... doubtful about what this is exactly. But you know what it looks like." The detective says.

Chellick pulls on a latex glove and walks up to the indentations in the wall. Five rounded indentations in the wall... The way they're placed... Chellick sticks the ends of his fingers into the holes and they line up, obviously lacking two fingers to place into the remaining ones.

"He pressed his fingers into the wall?" Chellick asks nobody in particular. "The metal wall?"

"Impossible. I know." The detective says. "We're... brainstorming other ideas."

"Thanks, Detective. We'll talk later." Chellick says with a nod, removing the glove and retrieving his sickly partner. "Time to go."

"Good." Jordan says. "That was the grossest crime scene I've been to yet."

"Out of how many?" Chellick asks, leading them back to their car. "All two of them?"

"Shut up." Jordan says smiling despite her illness.

"Don't worry, from what I've heard the next few won't be _so_ bad." Chellick says getting into their car.

They head to the next crime scene just a short distance away. Just like two times before they park just outside of it and walk into the crime scene.

"This one is particularly bloody." Chellick mumbles frowning at upside down corpse, gravity draining the corpse of all its blood, still dripping despite being dead for several hours. "Detective."

The lead detective for the crime scene walks up to the pair of them along with a young man. "Good morning, Detectives. This is Mr. Fredrick, he was one of the witnesses at the scene but he had particular information regarding the crime."

"Yeah I saw it all, start to finish." The young man, Fredrick says. "I was sitting right over there with my girlfriend when the turian there came out of the bar shouting and generally making an ass out of himself. He sat down on the bench, still drinking when the armored guy came over and sat next to him. I thought it was weird he was wearing that but hell, I've seen stranger shit here. Anyway, they talked for a bit but the turian kept being a douche and the armored guy stood up and was just standing there in front of him for a second before, SLASH! He cut the turian's throat right there in front of everyone! Well most people split but somebody was recording it and even though people were shouting, screaming and running all around, this armored guy just went and dragged him over to the tree and hung him up there as if none of us existed. Well I didn't want the bastard to get away for what he did and as he was doing stuff to the body he'd just tied up, I took out my gun and pointed it at him. And by the way, I have a concealed carry license; I got it after I got mugged a few months ago. Anyway, I pointed the gun at him and told him to give it up but he just turned and looked at me and he went to run away. I wanted to chase him or even shoot him but I wasn't sure what I should do so I just watched him run away. I chickened out, I knew that was the wrong thing to do."

"No you did the right thing." Chellick says. "You might've been hurt or worse if you went after him. Thank you sir, you've been a great help. What can you tell me Detective?"

The lead detective ushers the witness away and turns back to Chellick. "I won't be able to tell you much that you don't already know most likely. Typical motive. But we've got plenty of footage of the killer so we have a solid picture of what he looks like, or at least what he was wearing. Black armor head to toe, between 6'2" and 6'6" tall with a wide very strong athletic build. He also has a mostly light grey semi-lustrous chevron on his chest with a bright reflectively lustrous silver portion of his chevron. His armor is custom and had green indicator lights and from initial examination he's got some very high tech, very illegal pieces there. Military spec omni-blade, illegally modded omni-tool, beyond military grade armor and cybernetic strength augmentation. Also his armor had this sort of silver metal spine on the back. It looked almost like cybernetic exoskeletal augmentation. Whether it is or not, it's illegal, just like the rest of his armor. So on top of serial murder you can charge him with ownership of illegal goods and I'd throw a terrorism charge on top of it. There's no obvious origin behind his armor and it looks completely custom, so, unfortunately we can't pinpoint any source. It appeared as if he was wearing armor over clothing, though we're not sure about that, and he was wearing a shoulder holster with two guns that we weren't able to identify. Finally he was wearing a belt with tactical pouches as well as a large leg pouch that looked like it had something large in it and it also had these long strips of heavy cloth hanging from it on his left hip, like some kind of skirt or something. It _seemed_ purely cosmetic."

"Good, that's all very good information and it matches up with the other crime scenes so far." Chellick says. "Good work, Detective. Get this scene cleaned up soon and we'll speak again later."

"Got it, boss." The detective says.

The word boss makes Chellick frown but he brushes it off and follows Jordan back to the car. As they make the short drive to the next crime scene, Chellick ponders these crimes, more specifically the culprit.

"You've been pretty quiet tonight." Chellick says.

"Nothing to say." Jordan responds.

"Fair enough…" Chellick says with a sigh.

The rest of the ride is quiet but as they arrive to the next scene it's clear this one will provide a much greater clue to their killer. There's a much greater amount of damage to the scene.

The lead detective meets them in the mezzanine.

"Good morning detectives." The lead detective says with a nod. "I hope you two are having a nice morning so far?"

"It's early." Jordan says with a sigh.

The lead detective smiles. "So it is. I hear that. Let's get to work, we need to clean up soon."

Chellick nods. "Let's get this over with."

"This is a big building with several crime scenes so I'll be walking you two through it." The detective says. He starts walking and gestures over to a planter. "So our killer started right here, he arrived actually without his armor fully on. He arrived took off this black jacket and he was wearing the armor under it. He put the jacket in what I think was a pouch on his leg, put on his helmet and came inside. And I'm not sure if this is vital but it looks as if his helmet can collapse in and out of his armor itself. We caught him on security cameras arriving but before you ask, no the footage isn't clear enough for us to determine his appearance. The footage is so hazy from that distance that all we can really determine is that… he's got a head. And when his helmet came on it just looked like it sort of appeared on his head, hence my assumption that it collapsed into his armor."

"Not even his species?" Chellick asks.

"Well… he's… he's not a turian. Not salarian. He's definitely not, volus, krogan, elcor or hanar. From what we picked up he's _humanoid_, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's human. He could be human, but he could also easily be a particularly large drell, though I've never seen a drell break 5'10". He could also be a big quarian, utilizing armor that conceals his body shape a bit more as well as his environmental suit. _She _could also actually be asari, concealing her body shape with the same method. And I'm not even getting into non-council races. Honestly? He could be a he could be a batarian, and from what I saw in the report from that park kill, the one that happened prior to this one, I'd put that as my guess, actually." The detective says leading them into the lobby of the apartment building.

Chellick looks around briefly before looking back at the detective. "What makes you say that?"

"Well… I'm batarian. Obviously." The detective says. "Based on his body structure, and I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but I haven't _met_ a human with that large of a torso and narrow hips. I know they exist, but batarians are just biologically shaped that way so it's a common body shape. I mean, he was wider than a typical batarian, but natraully we have wide shoulders and narrow hips in comparison to other humanoid species. He was big, even for a batarian, but it's more common to see batarians of that size, especially in the military. Based on rough descriptions from the many different crime scenes, he's between 6'2" and 6'6" tall. Average height of a batarian is 6'1" so he's taller than batarians typically are, but I know humans on average are around 5'9" tall. To my knowledge he's also placed around 220 pounds with an athletic build. Not many humans I know of can reach that weight and maintain an athletic build. Well, maybe they could, but they can't move like he does with that amount of mass. Also based on what I saw, he was wearing a Da'Sha. Now I'm not familiar with human, drell, asari or quarian culture so there might be something that resembles a Da'Sha but I can tell you with some certainty that he was wearing one"

"What's a Da'Sha?" Jordan asks.

"It's… well… It's what those strips of heavy black-blue glimmering cloth he was wearing off his belt on his hip. Batarians in the old days would wear these things called Marks to symbolize their cultural origin or their feats or their occupation. Sort of like turian face paint, I'd say is a good comparison, but I guess you could say they're closer to medals or decorations that are common in militaries nowadays. They're simply colored or not colored cloth cut into a variety of shapes with a variety of designs that are worn off of the hip. It would take weeks to explain the complexities of the tradition, but the lengths of cloth like the one he's wearing symbolizes a warrior and the number of lengths symbolizes his prowess in combat. The dimensions, shape, and design on each one signify each type of accomplishment. The fact that they're all identical is significant. The material also symbolizes his feats and accomplishments. Now, he's wearing a special Mark called the Da'Sha. It's a symbol of great strength and power in batarian culture. It's… I guess you could say that it's the greatest Mark of them all in terms of things like physical power, combat prowess, kills, experience, that sort of thing. Marks aren't something people do much anymore, some wear them nowadays but batarians must earn their marks before they can wear them. The Da'Sha is something that's awarded. And people try to get one all the time but they almost always die trying. And no, they're not awarded posthumously. If you die, you don't get it. No thumbs up for effort. The process involves a lot of killing, by the way. It symbolizes combat prowess, virility, strength, power… basically it's something that you can wear to tell everyone you're better than them." The detective says. "Not anyone can get one, they're made from a very specific material that is impossible to get by any other means than actually earning the Da'Sha. So they can't be faked. From what I can tell it's legit. If he has one, he earned it. And if he's got a Da'Sha, it means he is _NOT _somebody who should be fucked with. Like, he's probably killed more people than you have _months _to both of your lives. Not years. Months. He's probably killed at least hundred people, probably more. And not just any people. Soldiers, warriors. People who could kill you easily. It's probably taken him most of his life to wrack up a kill count worth taking note of, and half that for the Ta'samach to judge him worthy of wearing it. A Da'Sha can mean a lot of things but the color of his is particularly nasty. The black-blue color signifies that he's brought about the destruction of something significant. And every one of them is black-blue. A Da'Sha is usually red, which means that he's killed a certain number of people. Black-blue means he's killed a certain number of groups of people, I guess would be the closest translation."

"So he's a batarian." Jordan says looking at Chellick. "And a really, really dangerous one."

Chellick nods slowly. "Let's keep moving detective."

"Of course. So after getting suited up, our killer came inside. Our desk clerk said he didn't even notice him come in so no help there. After that he walked over to the security guard, knocked him unconscious in, quite possibly the most efficient way possible. He grabbed his neck and just sort of squeezed and the guard passed out. It's like he put him in a perfect rear naked choke but with one hand. Whoever this guy is, he's got a really sophisticated understanding of anatomy, enough to push on the exact points, the major coronary arteries in the neck to cut off blood flow to the brain without hitting things like major muscles and tendons which the neck is full of. And he did it with enough force to pin the arteries down, blocking blood flow to the brain. Some impossible shit but it happened and we saw it on camera. The guard is over there, no worse for wear, but he's got some pretty severe bruising on his neck from that choke. Anyways, from there our killer took the guard's all access omni-tool and used it to take the elevator up to our victim's apartment. Let's go there now."

"What happened there?" Jordan asks, gesturing to an elevator full of broken glass, bullet holes and scorch marks.

"I'll get to that." The detective says as he uses his omni-tool to take the elevator up to the proper floor.

The ride is unbearably slow but as they get higher they pass a long stretch of broken glass in the next shaft over.

"What about there?" Jordan asks, pointing at the broken elevator shaft.

"Ties in with the elevator." The detective says. "That was the elevator our killer took. He did all that on his escape. We're here. I'll tell you more about that after the primary murder scene."

The detective leads them into the victim's apartment. "So our killer then used the omni-tool to get in here."

"Goddamn." Jordan mumbles. "This guy had money."

"Blood money." The detective says. "He was a powerful drug lord, got all his cash in black market trade and illegal activity."

"So he got what was coming to him." Jordan says as the detective leads them towards the master bedroom.

Chellick looks at her.

"What?" Jordan says with a shrug. "He was a scum bag."

"Yeah but I don't know if he deserved this." The detective says leading them into the bedroom. "So our killer came in here and we actually have security footage. Our drug lord was paranoid apparently. Our killer walked in here, really quietly and sort of just watched him for a while, real creepy like. But little did he know the victim actually had security measures that called the building's guards if his bedroom door opens from the outside after a certain hour and before a certain hour. Paranoid type. At any rate, our killer then stepped away from his bed standing right about there, drew two pistols, one in each hand and shot at the bed twelve times, hitting our victim eight times. We weren't able to ID the guns unfortunately but based on preliminary analysis they were atypically large caliber for hand guns. After that he started doing his number on the body, cutting his eyes and carving 'drug lord' into his chest with an omni-blade. He just finished when our security guards came in. Sir? Could you come here please?"

A batarian security guard walks up to the three detectives and the lead detective nods at Chellick and Jordan. "Tell our Special Investigators what you told me."

"I was part of the three man security detail that was called in after the silent alarm was triggered by the killer. As per protocol, we called C-Sec after the alarm went off and hurried here. We took the elevator up and caught the son of a bitch carving the guy like a fucking animal. We drew on him and I told him to freeze and he looked at us. We called in an update report for the C-Sec call, informing them of an armed murderer, shots fired. I told him not to move, but he straightened up, putting his blade away and walked over to the middle of the room real slow like. I saw he still had a gun in his hand so I told him to drop it. Instead he holstered it really slowly and held his hands up. He stood there for a while so I got a good look at him. He was maybe a few inches taller than me, broad shoulders and chest, narrow waist and hips, thick legs. Strong. Armored head to toe in black armor, he had green indicator lights on his armor and the eyes on his helmet were the same creepy green. He had this grey chevron on his chest with a bit of the chevron on his left shoulder chopped off and the cut off part was bright shining silver. He had a shoulder holster for two guns. Also, I think he might've been batarian too, 'cause he was wearing a Da'Sha. I mean I grew up in the colonies so I've never seen one of those, but to my understanding most people haven't, just in museums. Now I didn't grow up on the home world but I know what those fucking mean and I didn't want to fuck with this guy but I didn't have a choice. After he put his hands up we started closing in on him but he took a step towards us so we stopped and I warned him again. He said I should walk away. His voice was real low, really shaky like a robot. It might've been the helmet making his voice sound gravelly and rough but that's what he sounded like. I told him to be quiet and not to move. He took like three steps forward and we backed up a bit and told us to walk away again. We widened the circle and I warned him again but then he bolted. We opened fire but he was fast as hell and he had kinetic barriers, not just the armor. I know I hit him at least twice but he was damn fast and I might've only shot twice or three times at the most. He came straight at me and knocked me down and bolted out of the apartment. Felt like getting hit by a building. He got to the elevator and beat us to it by a long shot. We tried to stop the elevator and cut him off but the all access omni-tool he took conflicted with ours in the state of emergency so that didn't do any good. That's all I know."

"Thanks, you were a big help." Chellick says.

"Wait, can you describe his firearm?" Jordan asks.

The guard nods. "Yeah, I remember it distinctly. I remember thinking about how much bigger it was than our guns. It was huge, real big and heavy looking. Normal sized grip, just with a gigantic gun attached to it. I'm not a gun guy so I couldn't place what it was. But I'll tell you, we were a few floors down when he shot the victim and we could hear them from that far down. Appearance wise they were big and long, really heavy looking, the barrel was maybe 8… 9 inches long? It was mostly black or grey with black grips and green accents. It looked like he had one more to match."

"Thanks, that helps." Jordan says, taking notes on her omni-tool.

The guard nods and walks away.

"Anyway, let's go back to the elevators and get out of here." The detective says leading them back out of the apartment. "After our killer got to the elevators he must've seen our cars coming because he set up an elaborate escape plan. I guess he knew we'd be waiting set up at the lobby so he put down a flashbang and a smoke grenade on delayed timers and shot out the ceiling of the glass elevator before shooting out the glass chute and jumping out. We don't know where he went from there but he got away without a hitch. Though somebody did take a cab out of the area just a few blocks away to a cab terminal in the wards, just a few blocks away from the final crime scene, so we can assume that was him, however he didn't use a personal credit chit he used a burner, so it's untraceable unfortunately. Anyway, the smoke grenade was filling the elevator with smoke when it got to the ground floor and the flashbang threw all our jumpy ass officers off and we opened fire at the elevator… well I wasn't there at the time, the jumpy patrol officers are the jumpy ones. Anyway, they shot at the elevator and our killer got away no problem."

"If that's all, detective, we'll be heading out, this information was useful." Chellick says with a nod.

Jordan nods to the detective before jogging to catch up with Chellick. "Chellick this is a serial killer we're after right?"

Chellick nods. "Yeah."

"He's got all the telltale signs, I mean he has clear distinct MO, obviously he's got some kind of narcissistic streak or maybe the opposite and he's ashamed of himself, he's got very clear targets…" Jordan trails off, looking thoughtful.

"So, what's your point?" Chellick asks as the get in their car and head towards the Teyseri Ward. "He's a psychopath, so what? We'll catch him and that'll be the end of it."

"But there's something off about all this…" Jordan says. "I don't know. I'll know when I see the last one I think."

Chellick nods and continues driving. He drives, thinking about all this. Despite the fact that this all seems like a pretty simple serial killer case, it does seem strange to him too. There's just something not right about all this. Something about it…

They arrive at the final crime scene and approach it. This one is fairly recent so the cordon is still wide and there are more forensics guys wandering the scene. Chellick frowns at the crime scene.

"This one is different…" Chellick mumbles, both to himself and to Jordan. "It's… more personal."

"Why is this one different?" Jordan asks. "Maybe it's not the same killer."

"No… he's the same. He just did this one a little different." Chellick says. "Well… She is the only female… let's talk to the detective, get some facts."

Jordan nods in agreement and follows him over to the lead detective who is staring thoughtfully at the crime scene.

"After having looked at the other reports," The detective says, not bothering with any kind of introduction or pleasantry, "I can say with certainty that this does not match our killer's MO. But we know it's still him. There's footage of him it's… Anyway. You two want what I know, right?"

Chellick simply nods.

"Alright, well, our victim is an accused serial killer, acquitted of her crimes over the last few years." The detective says. "What I know for sure, is that she was at a nightclub late last night or early this morning, whichever you prefer. Either way, she was there a little before 4 AM at the latest. I went there myself and reviewed some security footage and sure enough she was seen leaving shortly after a tall armored fellow came up to her and started speaking with her. She initiated the conversation by my observation. She took him back to her apartment and the both went up there. Not minutes later security footage from the building shows our killer dragging our victim's body back outside, her throat cut open, her eyes cut and the words 'serial killer' carved into her back. Blood everywhere. Big mess. But he positioned her body in this position in the middle of the street, looked at her for a moment before escaping on foot. We lost sight of him from there."

"The nightclub, can anyone confirm that she was there? Was she with anybody?" Chellick asks.

"No, but I can confirm it with security footage and purchase history using her credit chit. However, based on her own serial killing MO, she hunted for her kills at nightclubs. As someone closely tied with her own investigation I can say with certainty that she was playing out her own modus operandi on our killer, trying but clearly failing to kill him herself. All the telltale signs. Flirtatious behavior at the club. The innocent demeanor on the walk home and from what we found in her apartment, she tried to defend herself against her killer with her weapon of choice: A long bladed kitchen knife. So for all we know, she was seeking to kill someone herself. Maybe this killer was trying to stop her?" The detective shrugs. "Only hearsay. But it's a theory."

Chellick is quiet for a bit. "Thanks, that's all I need for now. I'll talk to you later."

The detective does a slight bow. "Good day, detectives."

Chellick leads Jordan back to the car and they start driving back to the station.

"Alright." Chellick says as they travel. "You go first because I know you're dying to say it: What's strange about this killer?"

"I mean… obviously he fashions himself some sort of vigilante hero or something, right?" Jordan says with a frown. "But… it's like he's trying to tell everyone that he exists. Little details just don't fit. Like… How he climbed the building, or how he choked out that security guard or set up that diversion. He's trained. He's skilled and he knows what the fuck he's doing. He's damn good at what he does Chellick. So why would he let things like getting caught on footage so much or allow so many witnesses or trip alarms… why would he let those things happen? I've got a guess… I'm guessing that he craves attention in some fashion. That he needs it. Also I think he's trying to tell everyone 'I'm here! I'm here!' It's like he's… he's…"

"The public executions, the public displays, the carving of the crimes." Chellick says. "I thought it was weird he put the serial killer's crime on her back and not her chest like the others. Then I realized that that wasn't part of his normal MO. He doesn't usually do that. The public displaying too. I think he kills criminals, but I think he did it differently this time around. Why? He's telling everyone who these people are on purpose, displaying them, telling everyone what he did to them."

"Oh God…" Jordan says, looking sick. "He's… He's…"

"Trying to gain support." Chellick says with a nod. "He's trying to get people on his side."

"That's kind of scary." Jordan says and there is a long pause in the conversation. "Do you think he'll succeed? Get people on his side?"

"I'm not sure." Chellick says as he parks the car. "But I think he's got a good chance."

They walk into their precinct but go towards the Special Investigations department rather than their old one. They find it easily, knowing these halls and corridors well. Their new department is lifeless, empty. It's a small room with clearly better funding but few people. There's probably six detectives maximum and Chellick and Jordan are the only ones there at the moment. The notice movement in the captain's office. Time to meet their new CO.

Chellick believes in first impressions. He wishes he had more time to prepare for this. They walk up to his office and Chellick knocks on the door.

"Come in." Chellick hears from the other side.

Chellick enters and sees a lithe turian, experienced and composed. "Captain Pallin, it's nice to meet you my name is Ar Chellick and this is my partner Olivia Jordan."

"It's nice to meet you detectives." Captain Pallin says standing. "Captain Venari Pallin, though you seemed to know that already."

"Of course sir." Chellick says shaking his hand. "Everyone knows who you are."

Pallin nods. "Sure. It'll be good working with you detectives, I've heard good things. I understand you have a rather challenging assignment already?"

"We do sir." Jordan says. "We'll get to work on it immediately."

"Good. Get to it detectives." Pallin says, sitting back down. "I want a report on my desk by the end of the day. It should focus on the facts, tell me what happened and then I want your assessment of the situation and our killer especially. Get to it, Detectives."

Chellick nods. "Right away sir."

The two detectives find their new desks, boxes of their things sitting on top of each. Chellick sits and looks at Jordan who does the same.

"There's something you don't like about this, isn't there?" Jordan asks.

Chellick nods. "See… Based on the crimes tonight the general consensus is that our killer is batarian. But the guy at the corner club and the docks was confirmed as human. Doesn't make sense."

"Maybe they're two different people." Jordan suggests. "It's possible right?"

"Definitely possible…" Chellick says. "Do you know what scares me?"

"What?" Jordan asks.

"Well… Our killer left so much evidence but there's no way we'll be able to actually track him down and catch him anytime soon." Chellick sighs. "I hate to admit it but the only thing we'll be able to do is sit and play the waiting game. Wait for him to kill again."

Jordan is quiet for a while.

"But I mean… He's killing criminals." Chellick says.

"Chellick, you're not saying that it's not important. He's still a murderer. We have to catch him." Jordan says.

Chellick shakes his head deciding that Jordan is right.

They hear Pallin's office door open again and Pallin pokes his head into the room.

"By the way, Chellick." Pallin says. "You're going to be giving the media a brief overview on all the murders so I suggest you go home and clean up a little bit. You look like a mess. Also, I want you to keep certain gory details out of the press release, as well as crime scene photos. However, you are going to release the names of the victims as well as intimate details about our killer. Got that?"

Although Chellick doesn't think that such information should be released so soon, he nods. "Got it, sir."

Pallin's head disappears back into his office and the door closes. Chellick lets his head fall to his desk with a loud thump. Jordan chuckles and pats him on the head.

**##########################################################**

**I lower a cup of coffee, lots of cream and sugar and not much coffee to go along with it. I rotate the hot cup with cold fingers watching the large screen in the café.**

_"Police this morning are investigating a string of allegedly related murders late last night, and though police cordons are still in effect, news crews got plenty of footage of the crime scenes."_

The image on screen changes from a reporter to a crime scene in a park, and the video on screen zooms in on a corpse hanging from the tree, some of it blurred out.

"_These particularly violent crimes occurred around midnight last night and all were very public. Though police have not yet released an official statement, the lead detective for this investigation, Detective Ar Chellick gave a small press release regarding the information they have so far and he had this to say on the murders:_

_'Between the hours of midnight and 3:50 AM, five murders were committed. The victims were, in order of deceased, Tom Goodrich, Antonio Belducci, Serranus Dell, Denarius Gammos, and Andrea Parson. They were brutally and publically executed by what we now believe to be a serial killer who is targeting criminals, specifically criminals who are accused or convicted, acquitted, on bail or on parole. Also criminals with a history of violence, sexual crimes, or murder. I am authorized to release details we know on our killer, as follows: Our killer is most likely a male. He's between 6' and 6'6" tall with a strong athletic build. He'll likely be wearing a suit of customized body armor with a helmet that covers his face. His armor is all black in color with green indicator lights and a semi-lustrous grey-silver chevron on his chest. On his hip he'll be wearing strips of heavy cloth called a Da'Sha or similar garment. He's armed with two large caliber handguns but seems to prefer using knives or omni-blades. He possesses illegal military grade equipment, armor and weapons, including but not limited to: omni-blades, high caliber firearms, non-lethal grenades, kinetic barriers, etc. His physical appearance is not determinable, nor is his species, though he is believed to be batarian, based on evidence, but possibly human. He is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see this person on the street, do not under any circumstances get in his way or try to stop him. Call C-Sec immediately and get to a safe place. This was a general description of our killer but I'll open up the floor briefly for more specific questions.' "_

The detective looks uncomfortable and tired, based on his body language. Or at least that what it seems like. I'm not an expert on turian body language but I'm pretty sure he's tired. I smile. Keeping them up am I?

_"'Detective can you tell us more about the killer's modus operandi? What is his motive? And who will he target specifically?'" _A reporter on the TV asks.

_"'Our killer has a specific MO. He won't necessarily kill his victims with the same methods, but his method of doing so will be very quick, a shot to the head or torso, a cutting of the throat, things like that. He'll leave two vertical cuts over the victim's eyes and cut a word or phrase into the chest or back of his victim detailing their crime. He will then display their bodies publically, positioned in a demeaning or very visible pose. He'll avoid killing innocent bystanders, civilians, security personnel, law enforcement, C-Sec, employees, etc. but he's a dangerous, armed killer and probably won't hesitate to do one of them harm if they're in the way of his goal. His motive is unclear to us at this time, but I don't believe that it's for revenge, sexual release, or personal goals. He will target violent criminals, murderers, rapists, slavers, gangs, muggers, etc. He will specifically target accused or convicted criminals that he can reach due to the fact that he can find them easily via extranet, though it's very likely that he may seek out criminals, possibly even coaxing them into violent crimes in order to kill them.' "_

I smile at this.

_"'So he won't kill an innocent person, only if they've committed some sort of crime?'" _Asks a different reporter.

Detective Chellick nods. _"'That's correct.'"_

_"'He sounds like some kind of… vigilante.'" _The reporter comments.

When he says this I snicker loudly, stifling my laughter quickly, glancing around to see if anybody heard me.

_"'He's a murderer, sir.'" _Chellick responds. _"'He kills people. He's a criminal and we're going to find him. Period.'"_

_"'He kills criminals.'" _Another reporter says. _"'Do you have any predictions on who he'll target next? Maybe Ver'Rak Dumus at his upcoming murder trial?'"_

Chellick shakes his head. _"'That's unlikely. If he targets accused or acquitted criminals, it'll be because they got off innocent due to miscarriage of justice or if they're on bail or parole and are continuing lives of crime.'"_

"I'm having trouble seeing why I should have a problem with this." Somebody at a nearby table says, gesturing to the TV as he talks to his friend. "Finally somebody who's actually doing something about the crime on the Citadel! The gangs are taking over and here's someone who's actually doing something!"

"But he's just a murderer, like all those people he's killing." His friend says, shrugging. "Seems like a huge hypocrite to me."

"Sure but he's a good guy killing bad guys who kill good guys. So doesn't that all just cancel it out and make him a good guy?" The first guy asks.

His friend shrugs. "Maybe. Still doesn't stop him from being hypocritical about this whole thing."

I turn my attention back to the television.

"'_Any final comments, detective?'" _A reporter asks.

Chellick appears to think for a while. _"'If a life of crime is how you make your living, I suggest you find a different line of work.'"_

The image switches back to the main anchor. _"In addition to the press release, C-Sec has released this image of the serial killer. If you should see this individual at any time, do not under any circumstances make contact with him and report the sighting to C-Sec officials as soon as possible."_

An image of me wearing my armor appears. It's a still from a video of me sprinting away from a crime scene turning my torso back to look for pursuers, giving a good shot of what I look like. That's okay. It's actually a nice picture of me, to be honest.

I finish my coffee and head towards the shops near the docks to pick up some supplies for a project I'll be working on. There's also someone I'm going to meet there. If my research and my instincts are solid, and they almost always are, then this ought to go smoothly.

It doesn't take me long to get there, it was just a short walk away after all. I roam the few shops around there, buying supplies that the clerks take guesses at what I'm going to do with them. None of them are correct but I wouldn't expect them to be.

After I'm finished with a bag full of materials in each hand, I step outside one of the shops and check the time on my omni-tool. It's time to meet. I check up and down the street, waiting.

And as I look forwards again, I see her through the crowd, leaning against the wall of a booth, watching me. How long has she been there? I'm usually more perceptive. The crowd must have thrown me off.

I push through the river of people towards her stopping a few feet away. I nod for her to follow and take her to a quieter location.

Turning to her as she leans against another wall, crossing her legs and arms, I nod in greeting. "Senna."

"Jack." She replies, voice friendly but in a sarcastic way based on her expression.

"It's good to see you." I say, exchanging pleasantry, not really expecting one back.

"Can't say the same." She says,clicking her tongue. I smile despite the deliberate hostility. It's to be expected.

I look down before looking back up at her. Before I can say anything she looks at my bags before looking back up at me.

"What's in the bags?" She asks.

I hold one up. "Some materials. I'm putting a little something together."

She frowns when she examines the contents. "Okay."

We're quiet for a second before I open my mouth to say something, but she interrupts me yet again, shifting herself.

"What do you want?" She asks.

Instead of being defensive I decide to press on. "I have an offer."

She raises a brow. "Oh? What would that be?"

"I know C-Sec is looking for you." I say, garnering a small sneer from her. "I know they found out who you are, I know they froze most of your accounts, and I know you've been on the run for days but you can't leave the Citadel. Why? Because they're looking for Draco too and you haven't been able to find him."

Senna just glares silently at me, clearly disarmed enough that she's just going to wait for me to finish and clearly not happy with the fact that I know all that I know.

People nowadays underestimate physical detective sleuthing. Everybody relies on technology so much. Believe me when I say that technology will fail you more often than not and I take comfort knowing that the facts I collect are firsthand accounts, things that I see with my own two eyes. I'm good at finding the things I'm looking for. It took a little while but I found Senna. I followed her, watched what she did and spoke to the people she spoke to. I got the information I wanted and whether it was relinquished willingly or not isn't important.

I smile at Senna. "So, here's my offer: You help me when I ask you to."

She furrows her brows at me.

Okay, pause for a second.

I can't in good conscience keep referring to them as 'brows.' There is no indication of any follicle development in the brow ridge region whatsoever, as per the norm when it comes to asari. But she still has a brow ridge. So is brow alright to say? She has dark markings all over her face but nothing close to anything resembling eyebrows.

Fuck it. Brows it is.

Sorry about that. Unpause.

Senna furrows her brows at me.

Wait pause again.

Sorry. But who am I talking to?

Wait why the fuck am I apologizing? Who am I talking to? Shit I'm going absolutely bonkers.

Alright, unpause.

"On what condition." Senna asks, furrowing her brows at me.

I smile again. "Well, I have a place you can hide and continue to do your work without ever needing to worry about C-Sec finding you. Remember my little hideaway? It's located underneath a government controlled docks on the Presidium between two major Ward junctions. The docks has near constant traffic so FTL communication backdraft scrambles any possibility of C-Sec coming close to finding you. And on top of that residual Element Zero waste hides digital pathways. Cool right?"

Senna's eyes widen. "So that place is invisible to all digital networks?"

I nod with a smile. "Draco can meet you there within the hour and you two can stay there and hide until the heat drops and in the interim you can continue your work as a hacker, if we can procure some servers for you, that is."

Senna is about to say something, no doubt agree to my terms but I decide to keep talking.

"And to add icing to the cake I can tell you how you were found out." I say with a small laugh. "And to add even more icing to that cake I can tell you who sold you out."

Senna looks thoughtful and then she nods.

I smile. "Beautiful."

I hand her a slip of paper with the coordinates to all the chutes to her.

She frowns. "Paper? I haven't seen paper in ages."

"Shame isn't it?" I say with a friendly smile also handing her one of the many omni-tools I've collected but have yet to pawn off. "At any rate, use this to send those coordinates to Draco and wipe the omni-tool and ditch it somewhere. Now before you go off and do that I should tell you that the Warehouse has no electricity or operable plumbing whatsoever. For the past couple of weeks I've been showering and shitting at the gym. Ha!"

Senna grimaces. "Right… Well I'll have to fix that ASAP."

"Good. I'll see you at the Warehouse in about an hour I have some things I have to take care of." I say.

Senna nods but stops me. "Wait I have to ask you something first."

I look at her. "Yes?"

"Is C-Sec looking for you too?" She asks.

I blink and smile. "No. They aren't looking for me."

She looks skeptical but nods and walks away.

I didn't lie. They're looking for that vigilante. Not Jack Carmine. Ha! I take a cab to lower Aroch Ward, wrinkling my nose when I see the price. I should get my own vehicle. It's probably cheaper in the long run.

**##########################################################**

**It's not long before I arrive at the place I will now call home. Home. It's a large, building utilizing salarian architecture situated on a rise near the middle of the ward at the head of commerce center called 'Summit's Strip.' It's a famous building with big pricy apartments. Nothing close to the luxury of the mark I killed yesterday but luxurious in its own way.**

I towards my new apartment, Mez speaking with a proud looking salarian. He notices me and smiles walking towards me.

"Jack!" Mez says with happiness in his voice. "Jack I'm so excited that this is finally happening! I don't know how I was able to swing such a deal for you buddy but I did it! Jack this is Temea, she furnished and decorated the apartment for you, just like you asked."

I nod to her and smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I trust that I won't be disappointed."

"Absolutely not, Mr. Carmine." Temea says head held high. "I took the utmost care when furnishing you apartment, sir, if you'll allow me."

She gestures towards the apartment door and leads us to it. Mez unlocks the door and we walk inside. I'm immediately taken aback by the space. Please keep in mind that I told Mez that I wanted a nice spacious place preferably with open air access with a certain price range. I expected a nice little place with a balcony but this is just ridiculous.

So just about the entire left wall… well there isn't a left wall, that's my point. This room I extremely large and is circular shape. The left, I'd say half, maybe two thirds of the room is open, a huge balcony jutting out over the Summit's Strip. There are shallow steps down into the main room and the main thing that catches my eye is a lounge across the room, where there's a slight depression in the floor with built in couches with large red cushions and fur rugs. Situated on the right wall aligned with the 2nd floor overlook on my right is a gigantic television that is easily visible from anywhere in the room, even the terrace, but the lounge is situated directly in front of it. On my right is a large bar with only the basics sitting on its shelf. The room I'm in his high ceilinged and appears to be two floors tall, based on the fact that on my right, above the bar there's a overlook into this room with a medium high railing, though I can't see up there.

"I decorated the terrace and the main room here with the mindset that a sophisticated intellectual such as yourself would appreciate the wide open and spacious architecture that went into the design of this abode. Your terrace is mostly open space, allowing you to park your own vehicle right there if you wished with plenty of room to spare. On the left there is a nice outdoor lounge, complete with wide comfortable couches, simulated fire pit, as well as a counter with a stove and sink for… what do you humans call them? Barbeques? It's where you can sit with guests who wish to take in the most magnificent view on Aroch Ward. The main room is modestly furnished, a few of the essentials filled the space, though as you can see it was intended as such. On your right is a large personal bar with exceptional potential as you can see. Décor wise, I wanted to make you feel more comfortable in an alien architecture so I had the floors placed as simulated dark wood floors, but obviously I can't give you the real thing. I had the lighting reduced to warm low light, relying more on the natural light from outside to light the apartment. For the walls, there is some simulated stone there but mostly it's the typical metal walls though I had them darkened to suit the ambience of your home. When it comes to furniture I chose the color deep crimson red, primarily as with the bar stools, bar lighting, lounge cushions bedding, etc. because it helped give the apartment a warm, welcoming grandeur." She explains leading us further into the spacious apartment.

Though I want to listen to her talk about all that crap and use words even though I'm pretty sure she doesn't really know how to use them right, I am transfixed by the view from the terrace. Seeing as how the building sits on a particular rise on the Aroch ward, and is centered on the Ward and because my apartment faces directly towards the tip of the Ward I'm greeted with a city skyline view of the Ward with the point of the Ward just obscuring the majority of light of the nebula, filling my apartment with gentle purplish blue light that gives this dark space a more welcoming nature.

Fuck now I sound like the decorator I'll just pay attention to her again. I follow her through a wide doorway situated between the bar and the lounge. It's a large kitchen with a large island counter in the center, huge refrigerator built into the wall and counter tops with a few appliances here and there. The counter tops are simulated dark marble stone. I know it's not the real thing but it looks and feels pretty close. The cabinets, drawers and counters are the same dark slightly red 'wood' as the floors. As we pass through the kitchen, it sort of shifts into a hallway with a large doorway in front of us a closed door on our right and a gentle curved hall that leads to some stairs and something beyond. Through the doorway in front of us is some kind of… conference room I guess? With a long table with a glass center, framed by dark wood, dark walls and dark floors with black comfortable chairs and a TV directly across from the door. I have no idea what I'll do with that room.

"The kitchen is very large with plenty of space for any amateur chef. Right here is the business room where the apartment's owner can conduct business from the comfort and luxury of his home. On our right through this door is a modest study and work room, with a large desk, private bathroom. And if you'll follow me." She leads us down the gently curving hall on our left. "All the way down this hall is a small guest bedroom. As you can see here there are indeed planters in your home to help keep the air fresh, and they're automatically irrigated for your convenience. Please follow me upstairs."

We follow her upstairs and find ourselves in this hug space, no walls or anything, just the railing behind us that shows us the main room and terrace and skyline view. The space is filled, somewhat unnecessarily in my opinion. In the very center of the space is a huge circular bed, just slightly raised off of the floor. Along the back wall of the circular space, seeming to frame the bed is a built in waterfall that cascades out of the wall into the floor, not splashing around or anything, just disappearing into the floor like magic and it's also illuminated with dull blue lights. Above the waterfall in a shelf in the wall is a planter that runs the entire length of the back wall from railing to railing just like the waterfall. The planter and waterfall run the entire length of the wall except for in one spot where the planter stops for a few feet before continuing. In the gap the waterfall cascades from the ceiling rather than below the shelf, appearing to be a door way of water. The plants inside are a cacophony of colors, mostly blues, purples and reds with some greens for contrast. Some are even bioluminescent. The floor is black and somewhat shiny and absorbs light. Near the far wall, close to the balcony is another small lounge with more conventional couches, chairs and tables with another TV, smaller than the one in the main room. There is little else and I'm curious as to where my clothes will be stored.

I walk through the space slowly examining it. All I can think is how much this water makes me have to piss.

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask.

Temea gestures towards the waterfall doorway.

I walk towards it and as I get close to it the water stops cascading and reveals a doorway. Ok that's fucking cool. I go through the doorway into the modest master bathroom. There's a big shower and two sinks, black marble counter tops and black shiny floors. Modest lighting.

I do my business and leave.

"Where do my clothes go?" I ask.

Temea smiles again. "Use your omni-tool, you'll see it."

I open my omni-tool and link up to the home's network. I see an option that says wardrobe and sync it with my neural sensor/earpiece. I think about how I want to change my clothes and out of the mother fucking floor, wardrobes slowly rise with each wardrobe having drawers, shelves, hangers and hooks ready to hold my clothing. This is just… so far beyond anything I've ever experience that I don't even know how to fucking express myself right now. This is too fucking cool.

I shake my head in disbelief. This is… too much dammit. Too fucking much.

"What do you think?" Mez asks, smiling at me.

"This is… amazing." I say. "I've never seen anything like it."

He nods with a smile. "A lot of places are like this, believe it or not. The Citadel isn't a cheap place to live, after all."

"I can't believe I live here. This is my home." I say. "Thank you."

He smiles. "Don't mention it, friend."

Friend. I smile back at him.

I treat the two of them to dinner at a nearby restaurant right on the Summit's Strip and return to my new home, alone for the evening.

I walk inside and make sure the door closes behind me. I reach over the bar and find a bottle of liquor. And a glass. I walk towards the kitchen looking at my bottle.

Scotch. I was never much of a scotch drinker myself but I don't care much right now. I use the ice machine on my refrigerator door to drop three ice cubes into my glass before going over to my lounge. I drop myself onto the couch, pulling up large firm cushions to rest my arms on before pouring myself two fingers of scotch. I swirl the alcohol in the glass a bit let the ice clink around in my glass.

I take a sip and smile. Lovely.

The only reason I can afford a place like this is because I got a lot of money from that weapons bust. My income is scarce. I'm going to need to break down another big operation if I'm going to continue to afford this place, seeing as how I only paid for the next four months. Something will come up, I'm sure.

I turn on the TV and watch some news.

"_-still no sign of him. Authorities are escalating this case to a kidnapping since Mr. Tarmor has been missing for more than a week. He was last seen leaving the Serros Technologies store on the Kithoi Ward eight days ago. There have since been no sightings."_

I shut off the TV and knock back the rest of my scotch in one go. That reminds me. I've got shit to do.

I hurry into my kitchen and put my scotch and glass on the counter before heading upstairs into the master bedroom. I grab the shopping bags off of my blood red bed. I run over to the railing and vault over it. With the bags in one hand I squat down and lower myself down a little before dropping down, landing softly my bags held high so they don't hit the ground.

I hurry out of my apartment, locking the door behind me before running across the street to an alleyway just nearby that houses a chute to the Warehouse.

Yeah, I got a place right near one of the chutes. Lucky me, right?

I tie the tops of my shopping bags before tossing them into the chute, following them close behind. In no time I'm at the Warehouse, bursting through the brake doors and onto the lift. I lower it, picking up my bags as it reaches the bottom. I hurry over to the Warehouse itself and step inside.

"Greetings." I say to my two new friends.

"I forgot how much I fucking don't like this guy." Draco says when he sees me.

"Fuck off." Senna says. "He's letting us stay here and hideout from C-Sec until we can figure something out."

"Gee thanks for letting us stay in this ancient, rundown, no electricity piece of shit of a building. I can barely contain my mother fucking joy." Draco says, being very, very obviously sarcastic. "Seriously what is this, the fucking Stone Age? No operable plumbing, really?"

"You've a dirty mouth on you, kid." I say frowning at him. "You'd do well with a good mouthful of soap."

"Mouthful of soap?" Draco scoffs. "I guess this is the fucking Stone Age."

"Dumb punk." I say, catching him off guard. "Cave men didn't use soap, you jack wagon. And a mouthful of soap is what I told my kids before I'd give them the back of my hand right in the teeth."

"What does that have to do with soap?" Draco asks shrugging.

"I'd wash my hands first." I respond staring at him.

"You have kids?" Senna asks.

I shake my head. "Not anymore."

"No wonder considering you hit them in the mouth when they would curse." Draco says.

"Draco!" Senna gasps.

I shrug. "I'm not your dad so I don't really care if you agree with my parenting methods or not. Where I grew up, a lesson learned is a day survived. A lesson lost is the last thing you'll ever lose."

"What happened to your kids?" Senna asks.

"All dead." I respond.

"I'm sorry." She says, sounding sympathetic.

I shake my head. "Don't be. You didn't kill them. Besides, I had a falling out with most of them some time before their deaths. Anyway, onto happier topics, how is the finding this place power thing coming along?"

Senna shrugs. "Slowly. It's hard to trace. Seeing as how this place is ancient, it's not likely there are any current electrical and plumbing mappings that contain this place, so I'm overlaying them until I find this place on it. I'm sure it'll turn up. In the meantime, you might want to consider getting some things for the Warehouse… Like new light fixtures, maybe a little furniture, some updated facilities?"

I nod. "I'll get right on that."

"Thank you." Senna responds with a small smile. "Is there anything else you needed?"

"Why are you talking to him like he's your fucking master or something?" Draco asks.

I look at him. "Watch your mouth young man."

"You're not my dad." He says, repeating what I said.

I'm about to provide a confutation but I hold myself back. Little shit. I shake my head and look back up at Senna.

"There might be. I need you to find me an energy corporation based on the Citadel, please." I say.

"Why?" She asks.

"Just do it." I respond, shaking my head.

She frowns but nods. "I'll find one. Is there anything else?"

"Not unless you've got something for me." I say with a shrug.

"Uh actually there is." Senna points at my armor breastplate sitting on top of a crate. "What the fuck is that about?"

"Have you been watching the news?" I ask her.

She nods. "Yeah, what the fuck man?"

I smile. "I'm a doer, Senna. If I see a problem, I fix it. A stain, I clean it up. The crime on the Citadel is disgusting, and I intend to clean it up."

"By committing murders?" Senna gives me a skeptical look. "Isn't that extremely hypocritical?"

"Maybe to you." I say with a shrug.

"I think it's pretty fucking hypocritical too." Draco says.

"Nobody asked you, potty mouth." I say frowning at him.

Draco glares at me. "I fucking hate it here already."

"I still don't remember asking your opinion." I say rolling my eyes. "Anyways, is there going to be a problem, Senna?"

"You said C-Sec wasn't looking for you." She says, eyeing me. "You lied."

I shake my head. "No I didn't. There's no evidence or any way for them to tie _that _with me. They've got no clue it's me. They're looking for _that _not me. Not Jack."

"You're really fucking annoying." Draco says.

"Wow, you've got one hell of a problem with being quiet." I say. "Shut up."

"What do I fucking get if I do?" He asks.

I smile at him. "How about this? You'll get absolutely nothing but the benefit of learning how to speak without cursing in every sentence by listening to adults converse. On the flip side, it's not about what you get. No it's what'll happen to your skinny dirty, orphan ass. If you don't stop talking you'll start swallowing your teeth like candy. M'kay? Go play find the dead parents in the corner or something."

"I'm starting to figure out why you and your kids had a falling out." Draco says walking away. "Jackass."

Senna laughs.

I look at her.

"What? He called you a 'jackass.' It's funny because your name is Jack…" She smiles at me and I just stare, making her smile fade. "Sorry… I just like puns."

I roll my eyes and sigh. "That's not even a… anyway… I… That little shit made me forget what I was talking about."

"Vigilante?" She asks, nodding at the armor.

"Right!" I say with a smile. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, no just… I mean… You're mercilessly killing people." She says shaking her head.

I give her a look. "Sort of like how they mercilessly kill people? The difference between them and I is that they kill innocent people and I kill them."

"I guess that makes it… kind of better." She says still sounding skeptical of the whole thing.

I shrug. "It makes no difference whether you agree with my methods, just what I'm trying to achieve. I'm trying to wipe away all the dangerous crimes on the Citadel. Isn't that a gallant quest?"

"Is gallantry all you're trying to achieve?" She asks. "Because if that's the case, join the Alliance and kill some pirates and return a hero and give a little girl a flower and nurse a sick person back to health. I don't think people will think you're very gallant if you run around slaughtering criminals."

"I personally don't see much of a difference." I respond, shrugging. "I'm doing what you just described, just closer to home and without a lot of the middlemen."

She gives me a look. "And that's why you're bat shit crazy."

"Me?" I ask, taken aback.

"Yeah you're totally fucking insane." Senna shrugs and looks thoughtful. "But you're the good kind of crazy, I guess. You help people."

I shrug. "I don't really do what I do to help people. It's more like… Like… Hm… It's hard to explain. It's more like this: If an entire city full of innocent people protected somebody I know is worthy of death, then I would sooner burn that entire city to the ground. I'm starting to think that I should write down my code of laws and my morals so that people understand them better because nobody seems to."

"Probably because they don't make any damn sense." Senna says sounding annoyed. "Why run around killing murderers and thieves if it's not about giving them what's coming to them?"

"Because it's not about that. I don't do it to give other people closure, or anything like that. I don't enact vengeance on others, for others. No. It's… It's just because it's the right thing to do." I say with a shrug of defeat. "I don't believe in the laws of society, I believe in the natural laws that govern the world even if that world were to be without government. Don't kill, don't steal, don't cheat, don't rape, don't abuse, don't harm, don't destroy, don't eradicate… those things. Don't hack? That's a potentially victimless crime. If you used your skills to blow up a pipeline and kill dozens of people on purpose then that's a crime. If you used your skills to blow up a pipeline to destroy a building that housed a massive drug lab filled with criminals and some innocents died along the way, that's justified because you're doing the right thing in the long run."

"To you, the ends justify the means." She says.

"No. There is no end. There never is. It's what matters in the long run. Life's an endless road, and there are going to be bumps and obstacles standing in the way. How you get through them is your business, and as long as the choices made benefit the journey then it's okay to me. If you have to lose something to get through the obstacle, so be it. If somebody who's accompanying you on the road can't continue on with you or has to go another way or they don't want you to continue down your road then to me, they don't belong there. Leave them behind, or remove them from your path. Whatever it takes the journey must continue." I sit down on a crate.

"But… haven't you ever done something you regretted? If the mother of a murderer stood in the way of her son would you shoot through her? She did no wrong. What makes you so goddamn special that you can just decide who lives and who dies based on their life choices?" She asks.

I get to my feet and look her dead in the eye. "Everyone's journey must come to an end. Mine never will. Senna, if you're going to stay here, there's a secret you must know about me. I am no ordinary person. If you were to kill me now. In exactly eight hours from the point of my death, my body would heal and I would come back to life."

"Fuck off." She responds.

I just keep looking at her and she frowns eventually.

"You're serious." She says.

I nod. "Yes. I don't know how it works or why it works, but it does. If you killed me, I would come back. No matter how dead I am, I will always come back."

"Like… If I obliterated you, like stuffed you full of explosives and blew you to kingdom come, you'd just… like piece yourself back together?" She asks.

I shake my head. "No, uh… and trust me I want to know how this works really badly. If you blew me to a billion little pieces, I'm _pretty _sure that the biggest of those pieces would grow a full new body for me with everything, including my memories intact, although, sometimes, depending on the method of death, my memories get a bit fuzzy."

"What about all the other little pieces?" She asks.

"Well that would all just stay meat." I say with a shrug.

"Gross. You know if you convinced everyone in the galaxy to be cannibalistic or enjoy the taste of human meat you could produce enough food to feed the galaxy at some point." She says with a devilish smile.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I ask.

"Me?" She laughs. "I'm trying to take some humor out of this nonsense! What's wrong with you?! You're totally, completely, batshit, motherfucking insane! You honestly expect me to believe that you can come back to life? That's- Hey what're you doing?"

"If you won't believe me, I guess I'll have to show you." I say with a sigh, activating my omni-blade and pressing it to my own throat.

"No!" She says. "I believe you! I believe you! Just calm down."

"No you don't." I say sounding perfectly calm. "You don't believe me. Nobody ever does until they see it firsthand. If you don't believe me, that's fine, but as a show of good faith, just wait eight hours before stealing all of my stuff and dumping my corpse down a trash compactor, okay? I trust you."

I slice open my throat and shiver as my blood pours out onto the ground. I gasp, but choke on my own blood as it fills my esophagus and splashes onto the ground. The blood stopped flowing almost immediately however as the cut healed almost as fast as I cut myself open.

I cough out some blood. "Goddammit. Hold on, that didn't kill me. Let me try again."

Senna just gapes at me. I cut my throat again but the same thing happens.

I cough out more blood. "Fuck! Well… _If _you do actually manage to kill me then I come back to life eight hours later."

"What the fuck." Senna mumbles. "How is that possible?"

"I'm something called a meta-human." I say. "Or neo-human. But meta-human is more common. Humans possess a gene that can unlock unique traits that can only be described as super human. And it can be as basic as being able to lengthen and shorten your hair at will, to as extreme as being able to phase through solid objects or manipulate matter on the molecular level. My mother was able to see 14 seconds into the future. My father was normal. Me? I am _really _hard to kill. And if you do manage to kill me, I come back to life!"

"So… do you age?" She asks.

I nod. "Yeah… well… kind of. I age, and eventually die of old age, but I come back to life in a young body."

"That's…" Senna shakes her head. "Impossible."

I shrug.

"Why haven't I heard of this before?" She asks.

I smile. "Well… I know exactly why but it's a secret."

"Tell me." She demands.

"No." I say with a smile. "You'll have to try harder than that."

"Hey, what'd I miss?" Draco asks, coming up to us. "What's with all the fucking blood?"

I cut my throat open again with my omni-blade but it heals immediately.

Draco gapes and laughs a bit. "Cool trick dude. How'd you do that?"

"Don't believe me?" I hand him my revolver. "Just don't shoot me in the head please."

He frowns but shrugs and shoots me in the chest. I stumble back. Wow! Those things have a punch to them! I look down at the large hole in my chest and watch as a round gets pushed out and the hole heals shut.

Draco nods slowly. "Awesome…"

He shoots me again.

"Hey!" I say with a cough of blood. "Quit that! It fucking hurts!"

"I could get used to this." Draco says, cocking the gun again. "What happens if I shoot you in the head?"

"Bad things. I would be very angry if you shot me in the head." I say.

He appears to think about it but shrugs. "Nah."

Time is going to go by a lot slower with him here.


	9. Chapter 9: Normal

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUSTICE**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

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**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 9**

**NORMAL**

**##########################################################**

**It's about mid-morning on January 29****th****, 2174. As with every day, I begin it with exercise. Today, I've decided to go to the gym, but I don't want to go to the one I usually go to; it was too noisy, too crowded, and the people kept bothering me. So now I'm at a different place, and hopefully it's better.**

I walk into the building with a condescending scowl etched into my face. This place doesn't seem much better compared to the other place. This place isn't a dedicated gym, it's actually a community center that has a pretty well stocked gym. The rates to use the building's facilities are cheaper and it happens to be near to my apartment, not on the Strip, but close by in a residential sector favored by a variety of species.

I frown at a pair of asari passing by, laughing loudly and obnoxiously. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe I should just leave. No, I'm already here. The gym is right there, I'll just go use it.

I walk into the gym, pleased that the place is pretty well stocked but not immensely populated. It's not deserted, far from it, but there's room to breathe at least.

I find an open leg press machine and put down my water source and bag down before moving toward the rack to retrieve weights. I used to never lift before. I would if it was available to me, but I always found I wasn't ever excessively good at it. I've always been more of an endurance and finesse fellow over a sheer power sort of person. Believe me when I say that I can lift a significant weight but I won't say I'm as good as somebody who does this daily.

After putting on enough weight for me to do about 5 to 7 reps with, I settle into the machine and adjust it to my liking. I begin, pushing my legs but not locking my knees. I point my toes slightly as I complete the movement, engaging my calves as well as my quads. I slowly return to my starting position before exploding out again. I continue with this until I have finished my set with 6 reps. I relax and take a small sip of water and check the time even though I don't actually need to know the time. It's just something I do, I guess.

I complete three more sets before re-racking the weight and moving over to the next exercise at the squat rack. I have regular and front squats to do now.

"Hey man." I hear from behind me as I arrive at the squat rack. I turn around and frown at the muscular individual standing there. "Need a spot?"

"Not for squats, thanks." I say dropping my things again. "I don't power lift for squats."

"Oh, no problem bro." He says with a nod. "A word of advice though?"

I know he's going to comment on my form for my leg presses but I hold up a hand. "No thanks, guy. I'm here to exercise, not talk. If you're going to comment on my form, save it. I know what I'm doing."

He frowns and leaves.

Thank goodness. I hate people who come and talk to me at the gym. If I need a spot I'll ask for a spot dammit. I do my 4 sets of squats with high weight and 3 sets of front squats with moderate weight.

People are starting to gather around and watch me do my sets as I complete a relatively high number of reps with an extremely high weight. Of course it doesn't seem like that much to me. I do weigh about 500 pounds after all.

I move to the next area so I can do some deadlifts, some power cleans, and some snatches and then I'll call it a day.

For the rest of my time, nobody comes to bother me, though people do come to watch every once in a while. I do regular and sumo deadlifts with very high weight, I do power cleans with high weight and I do snatches with moderate weight. By the end of my work out circuit, I've killed 2 hours, and burned myself out thoroughly. I gather my things, my empty water source and my gym bag and I head to the showers. The place is crowded, filled with people of all species, shapes and sizes, all having finished some kind of activity, whether that be exercise at the gym like me, use of the pool, the rock climbing room, or one of the courts. Yes the place has all of that. Cool right?

What's not cool is how crowded this place is. However. It is helping me bury my curiosity surrounding alien biology, particular of the reproductive nature, even if this is exclusively the male sort.

It's all very disturbing to say the least. I shower and change and leave quickly. Now out of my gym clothes, I'm wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans with some casual shoes. I walk into the café to purchase something to eat, as well as one of their protein supplements.

As I slowly approach the counter, staring at the menu, deciding what I want, I notice the lone person working the café doing something somewhat out of sight behind the counter. I look at them as I approach and immediately turn away when they straighten.

Ok… Maybe I just didn't get a good enough look. I peek over my shoulder and look away again. Yeah. Really, really, really attractive girl working the counter. Yeah. Uh… Right. Yeah. Um. What. Do. I… do… I could… talk to her. But I'm shitty at that. But. I'll go ahead and try that anyways.

I turn around and find that the girl is staring at me. She smiles at me and I smile back but instinctively look at the ground between us before walking forwards to the counter.

"Uh hi, I'd like a blueberry scone, some water, and a protein shake please?" I say, clearing my throat first.

In all my years, I think I've only met a few people who I have found attractive from the instant I saw them and this is one of those people. I'm good with people, not with attractive girls.

The girl smiles at me, she nods. "Yeah! I'll get those for you right away. What kind of shake do you want?"

I frown and look back up at the menu, feeling stupid for not deciding in the first place. "Uh, sorry uh… How about… chocolate, I guess?"

"Ok!" She says, collecting the scone and water for me. She places them on the counter and starts making the shake, mixing the ingredients. She places them in the blender.

As odd as it may seem, I watch her work. She has… really, really awesome hair. It's incredibly curly but not straight so it isn't an afro or anything. No it's just super curly, long bouncy hair that sits around her head and bounces around like crazy every time she moves. It has dark roots but gets lighter quickly, becoming a dirty blond sort of color. Every time she leans over to do something she has to keep a hand on it to keep it out of the way. It's terribly adorable. She's sort of tall for a girl, probably about two inches or so shy of 6 feet. She has lightly tan skin and a very petite form with slightly wide hips and a narrow waist. As she runs about behind the counter I notice her incredibly nice legs thanks to the shorts she's wearing; long, tone and smooth. She returns to the counter and looks at me, smiling slightly. Her eyes are uniquely amber colored and big, with square thin framed glasses sitting on her small nose. Her cheekbones are high and prominent, her brows are thin and maintained, and her lips are full but widen when she smiles. Her smile is sincere and lovely and slightly shy. I notice that her teeth, though really nice and white, aren't perfectly straight, some just slightly crooked. Thanks to her hair, it's completely impossible to see anything but her face when she comes up to you. All in all, she's clearly got some unique genetics going on for her and her entire demeanor is unbearably cute.

"Your shake will take just a second." She says. "That's going to be, 14 credits."

I hand her a credit chit and she scans it before handing it back to me.

I take my other items and put the water bottle in my bag, leaving my scone on the counter. I take my time putting away my water bottle, doing it slowly so that I can think of something to say, unnecessarily slow, now that I think about it. I rearrange some of the other things in my gym bag before closing it back up and taking a second to retie my shoe.

You might be curious why I'm so damn dedicated to trying to talk to this attractive young lady. It's because I'm terrible at it and as a perfectionist, I'm always seeking ways to improve myself. Also I'm a little lonely and seek companionship. I have few friends and the more that I have, the better.

I'll start simple I guess. Alright, here goes.

I straighten and face her to find her holding the protein shake, ready to go. She holds it out to me and I take it, a little disappointed. Now if I try to talk to her it'll be awkward. I sigh and nod, saying thanks and that I needed it.

"Did you just finish a workout?" She asks.

Suddenly invigorated I nod and smile. "Uh, yeah. I just got out of the gym."

She rolls her eyes. "Ugh. I need to start going to the gym. I've been so lazy recently."

I shrug. "Well, I'm new to the community center. If you need a workout buddy, I'm happy to help. I'll be here about this time, most days."

She smiles. "Damn! I work this shift all weekdays."

"Well… uh… what time do you get off work, maybe you and I could… um." I stop and look down at my feet and go to scratch my head but only succeed in spilling some protein shake in my hair.

She gasps and retrieves me some napkins quickly, handing them to me. "Oh gosh! Gross! Those things don't smell really good."

"No they really don't." I say with a loud sigh. "I'll uh… I'll see you around I guess."

Well. You fucked that up like a king who… fucks shit up. Goddammit you sound like a fucking idiot in your own goddamn head now too.

"I get off work at 5:30." I hear the girl call to me.

I turn around, napkins still rubbing my hair, staring at her in slight surprise.

"If you want… you can come meet me here and we can go get something to eat… if you want." She says not really looking at me but smiling.

I nod but realize she's not looking at me. "Uh yeah… That's… That'd be great I'll see you tonight then."

I turn to leave but come back, going to the counter. "My name's Jack."

She smiles at me and brushes her hair out of the way of her face. "Kimberly. Or… you can call me Kim, if you want."

I smile and nod. "Kim. Okay. I'll see you tonight."

I turn and leave, proud of myself for having accomplished something today. I walk out of the building and decide to take a short cut back to my apartment. On the way I have to go through some alleys, but I'm more than accustomed to that by now.

A fair ways down the alley, a guy gets in my way and a pair of salarians appears behind me. I sigh out of my nose.

I put my gym bag on the ground and frown at the person in front of me.

"Just hand over your credits and there-" I interrupt the human blocking my path by stabbing him through the clavicle with my omni-blade.

I spin around and slash one of the salarians across the face before kicking him in the chest as I lunge for the other one. I grab him by the neck and slam him against a wall, stabbing him in the torso repeatedly. I toss him aside and throw myself at the other salarian whose face I cut. I drive my shoulder into his chest and slam him into the wall as hard as I can before backing away again and slamming my foot into his chest repeatedly. I hear bones shatter but I'm not done yet. I throw myself at him again and pin him to the wall and slice open his thigh before backing off a step and stabbing him in the gut before slashing open his throat.

I back off, breathing heavily. I look at the corpses surrounding me. Why did I go so hard this time? Unnecessarily bloody, unnecessarily violent. That's atypical of me.

Come to think of it, why are there so many fucking muggers around? I swear, if they keep popping up around me like this the murder rate on the Citadel is going to be at least 3 a day. Which is absolutely ridiculous.

I cut their eyes before gathering my things and leaving. As I continue to walk through the alley I look down at myself. Blood. Hm. The chute to the Warehouse is in this alley complex, I can go there and change into some of the spare clothes down there before heading home.

I find my way to the chute and head to the Warehouse. I notice Draco doing something in the yard but it doesn't seem particularly interesting nor mischievous so I have nothing to say about it. Inside I find my clothes and change, putting the bloody ones in my gym bag.

I put my gym bag down and decide I'll go talk to Senna.

I find her fiddling with something near the back of the Warehouse.

"Senna." I say, getting her attention.

She looks back and me and smiles. "Hey, Jack. Just replacing some old couplings. This place is old, but the new couplings were easy to install, despite the fact that this place uses old tech."

"Good. Any progress on restoring power and water?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Kind of. I got the water to flow."

"Really?" I ask with a grin.

She nods, also smiling. "Yeah! It was easy. Just hacked into the water management systems and redirected some minor flows. It'll give us what we need with plenty to spare and nobody will even notice."

"Good. And what about electricity?" I ask.

She frowns. "That's the tricky thing. You see, this place would have a pretty significant power draw and I can't just siphon electricity off of stuff like I can with water. I thought maybe we could bring in some hydrogen generators and use those instead but they're super expensive, even for a small one it's still a lot of credits. And we'd need a few large ones to keep up with the electricity we need."

"Well how much electricity could we possibly need?" I ask with a shrug.

"Well, the lights is one thing, but heat is also a factor. This place needs life support as well which is active now but running on residual backup power from emergency generators which run on ion replicating power no matter what. That's also what works the chutes, that I found out are only running on partial capacity. Supposedly they should function like full on tram systems not part slide-part missile launcher. The emergency generators won't power the whole place though, we need something bigger. Also if you want to be able to fully employ my services I need computers, terminals, and servers. Which I can get no problem, but they need power to work obviously." She says and shrugs after a while. "So unless you can figure out a way to power the place without drawing from the Citadel, which can be noticed and traced very easily, I can't help you."

I think for a second. "Did you look up those energy corporations like I asked?"

She nods. "Yeah. There's a big one called Damascus Energy based here on the Citadel."

I check my watch. Still a long time. "I'll be back."

**##########################################################**

**Paying a visit to Vaas and then Turok. I have a plan to get power to the Warehouse but I'll need help.**

As I walk towards Vaas's workshop beneath the restaurant, I notice the streets are atypically barren. Nobody around. That's not right. I frown at the restaurant as I approach. There are vehicles parked outside. I'm not liking this…

I spot someone exiting and notice a weapon in their hand. I duck into a dark alleyway to my right and peek around the corner. Two men, one batarian, one turian, both armed.

I open my backpack and retrieve my revolvers, putting them in my shoulder holster under my jacket. I'm not wearing my armor, it's too early. Too many people. But I am wearing the plate carrier suit which is resistant to damage. And the suit has the exo-central nervous system spine on it. Which does have my helmet attached to it.

I put the helmet on and approach the restaurant.

The two guards don't notice me until I'm pretty close and they shout in alarm and point their weapons at me.

I roll to the side and crawl underneath one of their cars, which hovers slightly off the ground. The pressure underneath this thing sucks dick but it's bearable.

I roll onto my back and draw my revolvers. I shoot each guard in the leg, taking one of their feet off entirely before shooting each one in the face. I crawl back out from under the car and holster my revolvers picking up one of their guns. It's an SMG of some kind I think.

I walk into the restaurant.

Oh no! They killed the old turian guy who sold me chow mein and the nice old lady who cooked it for me! Bastards!

I shiver in slight fury and hurry down the stairs. A gang member rounds the corner and starts heading up the stairs but I fire a long burst into him as I descend, throwing him against the wall.

The SMG fires fast and accurately with little recoil. Not very much punch, though.

I enter Vaas's workshop and kill a guard who rushes at me on my right. Another gang member appears on my left and I fire on him but he manages to avoid the onslaught of rounds. Instead of seeking cover and picking him off, I head right and walk around. I see him as I pass by and kill him from behind. A pair of criminals appear in front of me and I dive to the side as they fire at me.

I get up quickly and sprint away, utilizing the numerous partition walls for concealment. I round the last corner and find two men, one with a knife to Vaas's throat, the other facing away with a shotgun. The guy with the shotgun notices me immediately but I pump him full of rounds and approach the guy with the knife. He tries to move around Vaas and use him as a hostage but I get there quicker and stab him in the face with my omni-blade. I drop the SMG and pick up the shotgun and blast the last two criminals that I avoided earlier.

I drop the shotgun and untie Vaas.

He looks up at me, eyes hazy. He has a bleeding forehead wound.

He blinks and groans. "Cartel… Found me."

"I see that." I say. "Good thing I found you when I did."

I help him up and hand him a pistol from the corpse of the interrogator. "Can you walk?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"Alright, I have a place for you to hide." I say. "Do you need anything before we go? You won't be able to come back here for a while."

He nods. "Yeah, let me get a few things."

I nod and wait for him to wander away before I kneel next to the interrogator and take his omni-tool and credit chit. I take his knife and cut his eyes and toss the knife away. I open his omni-tool and start going through his messages.

The most recent one is one telling him where to find Vaas. But the one that worries me is the most recent outgoing message with an attached file containing Vaas's client contact sheet.

I have to go get Turok.

I grab the SMG again and hurry to find Vaas.

"Vaas!" I say quickly sending him the coordinates to the nearest chute. "The Cartel has your contact sheet. I'm going to find Turok. Go to these coordinates. There's a little handle at the base of the wall. Open it. There'll be like a chute filled with darkness. You won't want to go in, but you have to. You're going to have to trust me on this. Once you get to the end, talk to Senna and tell her what happened. Ignore the little shit wandering around the Warehouse. Got it?"

"I'm lightweight confused but yeah I got it. Go find Turok." He says.

I nod and rush out of the restaurant and to a nearby cab terminal. I take it to Turok's home, not too far away from here.

I exit the cab and head into his apartment building. It's a shabby place. I enter and see blood. I take a quick scan of the area. Three enemies in the room. They see me as soon as I see them. I turn towards them and start firing at the same time that they start firing at me.

I take plenty of hits and fall but manage to kill the three of them.

"Agh!" I grunt, looking at myself. More than a few rounds punctured the suit but they're pushed out of me within a few seconds.

I even took a few rounds to the head. Good thing this helmet is tough. I find the building directory and head to Turok's apartment. Once I reach my floor, I peek into his hallway. Some rounds start hitting the wall near my head and I flinch away. They're waiting for me.

I blind fire down the hall with my SMG, firing madly until it overheats. I ditch it quick and draw my revolvers and start sprinting down the hall.

As my targets start poking back out of their cover time sort of slows down. I'm choosing my targets, assigning an order of death in my head. The second I start shooting, time speeds up again. I shoot the closest three targets all in the head, all dead instantly.

Another enemy further down the hall takes a shot at me and it hits me in the shoulders and I stumble but sprint harder. I'm too close to take an accurate shot so I leap and plant my foot against the wall and push. I use my forward momentum to carry me towards him as I whip myself around and plant my boot into his face.

Blood sprays and he collapses. I land, stumble and roll to regain my balance. Another target appears and I shoot him a few times in the body before slipping into cover. I exhale a long breath and peek back out into the hall. I see one more enemy, ready with his assault rifle. He shoots at me as I peek and I recoil. I take a breath. This is going to hurt.

Just as I'm preparing myself to charge out of cover and take my chances attacking him head on, a door explodes off its hinges and crushes the enemy aiming at me. On top of the door is Turok, covered in blood of various colors. He roars and rolls to the side and gets to his feet.

A pair of turians exit the apartment Turok was in and rush him. Turok charges the turians and slams one of them into a wall, blood spraying out of the turian. The other turian shoots Turok in the back of the leg with a shotgun and aims for his head once Turok falls to his knee. I'm about to take a shot when Turok flips around and grabs the turian by an arm and… well the meat on his stomach. Turok proceeds to swing the turian around like a ragdoll, slamming him into the wall and the ground. Turok roars and takes a bite of the turian's body, before lifting him over his head, holding him by his neck and the meat of his belly. Turok roars again and I see the muscles in his scaly arms jump and writhe before the turian is ripped open and his gore spills over Turok.

Turok drops the mangled carcass and roars a blood curdling roar of fury before he collapses back against the wall, breath haggard.

I check the hall once more before stepping out of cover and walking towards Turok. I holster one of my revolvers as I approach and peek into the apartment he was in. The apartment is full of mangled corpses and blood. Turok is a fighter but his fight may be up.

I kneel in front of Turok and remove my helmet.

I touch his shoulder and he grunts and growls and tries to grab at me but I knock his arms away. "Turok. It's me. Jack."

He looks at me and spits blood out of his mouth. "Took you… long enough…"

I shake my head. "You're looking pretty rough."

Turok waves me off. "Just… I'll be ok. Just need a minute."

I help Turok to his feet with some difficulty and we start heading down the hall. I get the SMG I was using earlier and Turok stoops down to get a shotgun along the way. We get to a taxi terminal without much difficulty, just a large krogan weighing down on me.

I help him inside and set it to take me to the nearest chute to the Warehouse. I look at Turok, bleeding in the cab as we go.

"You going to survive?" I ask with a frown.

Turok shrugs. "Probably. Never been this hurt before to be honest. Krogan… regeneration is fast. But. Yeah. Never been this bad before. Too many of them."

I nod. "We'll get you somewhere safe where you can rest."

He nods.

The cab jolts violently. I look around and see another vehicle next to us. It reels back and slams into us again.

I sigh out of my nose and draw my revolver. I take aim and wait until the enemy vehicle is approaching to slam into us again and take the shot. The shot shatters the window of my car so I can't see what effect it had. But since there's not another slam I'm assuming I'm good.

I hear a dull explosion and nod with a smile.

"Alright." I say.

"Good shot." Turok says, breathing heavily. "You got him on your first try."

"Probably luck." I say. The cab touches down and I help Turok out, helping him to the chute. I open it and he looks into the abyss.

"You don't expect me to go in there do you?" He asks.

I nod. "Yeah I do."

He sighs. "Well… Don't got much to lose anyways."

He sits down on the edge and scoots forward until he starts sliding, his shout of alarm disappearing into the distance. I look around once more before following him, closing the chute behind me.

Once I arrive, I help Turok to his feet and I lower the lift. I help him into the Warehouse and look up to see Vaas and Senna arguing.

"Fuck would you get out of my face asari?" Vaas hisses at Senna.

"Fuck you!" Senna shoots back.

"Hey!" I shout, silencing the both of them. "Both of you stop shouting, will you?"

Vaas approaches me. "Good, human, you're here. Would you tell this short minded fool that you told me to come here?"

"Senna." I say looking at her. "I told Vaas to come here."

"Vaasarah to you." Vaas adds, glaring at Senna with all four of his eyes.

Senna glares at me. "Jack, why are you bringing people here? Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"We can trust them." I say, helping Turok sit onto a crate.

"Why?" She asks.

"Because they have no choice but to trust us." I say. "The Cartel is hunting them."

"No thanks to you." Turok grunts.

"Not to mention that that puts us on the Cartel's list too!" Senna shouts in anger. "I don't want to be hunted by the Cartel! C-Sec is already looking for me. What if they find us?!"

"They won't." I snap back.

"What makes you so sure?" Senna asks, crossing her arms.

"Because now that you're in danger too, you _won't_ let them find us. You'll cover our tracks, wipe the slate clean..." I say stepping closer to her. "Isn't that right, hacker?"

"You're pure evil." Senna hisses before storming away.

"I like you, human." Vaas says with a laugh. "You know how to manipulate people."

I shrug. "Comes with experience. Now I have some more business to take care of but I need your help Vaas, seeing as how Turok is too injured."

"What the fuck can I do?" Vaas asks with a shrug.

"I… well. You are being hunted by the Cartel it may not be safe for you yet. Eh, fuck it. I'll just go solo and wing it." I say with a shrug.

I take off my jacket and put my armor on. I strap my belt around my waist.

"You know, this… battle skirt or whatever it's called really did something. The general public thinks I'm batarian." I say to Vaas as I prepare my gear.

"It's called a Da'Sha. I told you it'd work." Vaas says, sitting on a crate.

"Where'd you get it?" I ask.

Vaas shrugs. "Don't worry about it."

I shrug back. "Alright. I'm off."

As I going through the door, I turn right back around and remove my armor again.

"What are you doing?" Vaas asks.

"I forgot I had a date." I say, checking my omni-tool. Still enough time. I'm going to go home, take a shower and change.

"A date?" Senna asks, suddenly reappearing.

I nod. "Yeah."

"With a girl?" She asks, crossing her arms.

"No with a Keeper." I say. "Yes, with a human girl. What's the problem?"

"She's jealous." Vaas says, clearing his throat.

She turns to him very quickly. "I am not jealous! I am simply angry with him, putting aside dire priorities to go out with random bimbos! I mean, look at all the shit that happened today! And you're still going to go out?"

I shrug and just stare at her for a second with wide eyes.

"Or she could be jealous." Vaas says, looking at me and shrugging.

I nod at him.

"Fuck you guys." Senna says, throwing her arms up. "And fuck you too."

Vaas frowns at her, having pointed him out. "You already insulted in the first sentence, vermin. Or are there too few neurons creating synapses in your shit-all brain that you can't remember what your said two seconds in the past."

"Fuck you! You cum-guzzling pyjak-sodomizing labia-faced piece of fucking pointless shit!" Senna shouts at him, storming away. "Fuck. You!"

Vaas watches her walk away.

"Did you have to push her?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Not really. But I did. She called me labia-faced. That's clever, I'll admit that."

"Well. I'm going to go before Senna starts stabbing things or people. Please attempt to get along. Also, uh, don't kill each other?" I ask, frowning at Vaas.

Vaas shrugs again. "I'll give it a shot but I'm not promising anything."

"Are you talking about getting along with Senna, or not killing each other?" I ask frowning at him and anticipating the response.

He shrugs once more. "Whichever answer that'll make you happy."

"The last thing you should worry about is my happiness." I comment, exiting the warehouse as I do.

I take a chute to the Upper Aroch Ward and head to my apartment with a haste. Not a whole lot of time. I have to go meet her in like an hour. I'm nervous. It's rare for me to feel like this. But yeah.

I'm nervous.

I get to my apartment and head upstairs to the bathroom. I take a fast shower and go back into my bedroom. And I can hardly call it a bedroom since it's open air, but that's what it is I guess. I approach my wardrobes and they rise from the ground, ready for me to select my clothes for the evening. I choose to wear a pair of dark brown boots, a pair of slim fit dark blue jeans, a nice belt, a white collared shirt, a black tie and I decide to stay inside the casual zone by wearing a heavy knit cashmere and wool sweater with a shawl neck. I put my clothes on and go back to the bathroom to make sure my hair looks ok. I have a bit of stubble, but that's ok…

Nah better shave. I quickly shave, but manage to cut my face, near my jawline, in my haste. I wince and watch a bead of blood fall off my face as the cut closes.

I return to my bedroom and look at myself in the mirror. I take a deep breath. I start mentally encouraging myself. Then I run back into the bathroom to apply cologne before returning to the mirror and continuing my mental preparedness.

Alright, man. You can do this. This is basically your first date. FUCK! I didn't even think about what I should do! Ok. Well. I'll take her to dinner. We'll go get sushi. Hopefully she likes sushi. Then maybe we can just take a walk and talk for a while. That sounds fine. That'll work.

Should I buy her flowers? Yeah, I will. That's a nice touch. Nothing serious though. Just a half dozen somethings. I don't know flower breeds. I know roses were the go to romantic flowers in the pre-war world but I'm not sure of any others. In my era most were dead. Oh well. We'll see when we get there, I guess.

I check to make sure I have all of my things before leaving my apartment. I take a few deep breaths as I look up the location of the nearest florist and make my way there. I enter and I am treated to a wide variety of visual stimuli.

An asari smiles at me from the counter. "Hello! Welcome! Can I help you find anything?"

"Maybe." I say. "I'm going on a date tonight, and I'd like to give her some flowers. But this is our first date, so I don't want to give her anything too serious. Just something that'll make her smile I guess."

The asari beams at me. "I'll put a little bouquet together. How many would you like?"

"Just a half dozen I guess." I say.

She smiles again and runs around, picking flowers out for me. She wraps them up in a paper sleeveand then wraps that in a plastic sheet. She decorates the bouquet with a bunch of like long blades of grass and displays the bouquet to me.

"Is this to your satisfaction?" She asks, showing me the arrangement of purple and blue flowers with delicate petals folded together in a large fluffy manner.

I nod and smile. "That looks beautiful."

The asari smiles again. "Ok! It's going to be 17 credits."

I hand her my credit chit and take the bouquet. I inhale it and blink. Flowers smell weird. I've never smelled flowers before. I take my credit chit back.

"Thanks." I say before turning around to leave. "I'll come back here if I need flowers."

I take a few more deep breaths before checking the time on my omni-tool. Crap! I'm going to be late! I start running, keeping the flowers close so they don't get smashed or anything as I run towards the community center where Kim works.

I arrive a few minutes later, and I check the time again to see that I'm a few minutes late. I look through the glass doors and see my date standing in the middle of the room, a different shirt on and a purse hanging off a shoulder. She's standing with her feet close together, hands crossed and clasped together in front of herself. She's glancing around the room, waiting.

I take another deep breath and check the bouquet before putting it behind my back. I walk into the community center and walk towards her. She spots me as she's bouncing up and down on her toes. She sees me, and she smiles, brushing some hair out of her face and looking bashful. She looks at her feet before walking towards me to meet me halfway, keeping her eyes on the floor before looking up at me as we get closer.

I smile back, looking at the floor then back at her as I reach her.

"Hey." I say, giving her a hug with my one free arm, my arm wrapping around her waist.

"Hi." She says as returns the hug, but I keep the hug brief.

I step back and present her the flowers. "These are for you."

She gasps lightly and takes them. She looks at them for a moment before taking a deep breath of their strange aroma.

"Oh my gosh." She says taking another breath and then looking up at me, blushing slightly. "I've never been given flowers before!"

I smile and look at the ground before looking back at her. "Ok. Do you like them?"

"I love them!" She says laughing a bit. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." I say laughing too. "I'm glad you like them. So do you like sushi?"

"I love sushi!" She says with a smile. "Are we getting sushi?"

I nod. "Yup. But… I'm pretty new to the Citadel, do you know any real good places nearby?"

She thinks for a moment. "There's a place on the Summit, but it's really expensive."

I shrug. "That's ok. I live on the Summit actually. I think I know the place you're talking about. Let's go there."

"Ok…" She says shrugging too. "Yeah, let's go."

I nod and turn around putting my arm out for her to take. She does so and pulls herself close to me. We start walking together towards the Summit Strip.

"So how long have you lived here?" I ask as we walk.

"All my life." Kim responds. "Well… I mean. I was born on Earth and I lived there for like 5 years, but my father was one of the first to come here to the Citadel. He took me here and we built a life here. I'm going to school here right now. My dad offered me a job working at the company he works at, but I prefer to work at the center. It's a nice experience."

I smile. "I can understand that."

"What about you?" She asks. "What's your story? How old are you by the way?"

I think about the answer for quite a while. "23."

"Oh. You look a lot more mature than that. You look like you could be in your late 20's." She responds.

"I can understand that." I say. "I definitely don't look my age. What about you, how old are you?"

"21." She says. "But you didn't answer my question."

"Which one?" I ask.

"What's your story?" She asks, once more.

I think about my response again. "Well. I was born on Earth. Only child, and my mother died when I was a few years old. My dad raised me but he died a long time ago as well. I did well in school, enough to graduate early, and went to a good school in England studying law. I then started work for a company that handles the administration of justice globally on Earth. They set up an office here on the Citadel and I got sent to run the branch. I like my job. I travel a lot. I've been to many of the major Earth cities."

"Like where?" Kim asks.

"Singapore, Seoul, London, Versailles, Paris, Montreal, Vancouver, New York, Sydney, Mexico City, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Rome… There are a lot more. Most recently, I was in San Diego, California." I say.

"That's amazing. You've been to a lot of places for someone so young." She says. "What's your favorite place?"

"Huh… nobody's ever asked me that before." I say. "I don't know. I spent more than a little bit of time in San Diego… The weather is just glorious. But I can't beat home."

"Where's home?" She asks.

"I was born in a little place outside Montreal, and I grew up outside the city. I lived near the woods, in a quiet place." I say, being fairly honest. "I liked the summers, the nature outside the city. It was a very beautiful place. It was green, foggy. Gorgeous in its own mysterious way."

"Sounds nice." She says, sort of playing down my appreciation of my home. "Can you speak French?"

"Un peu." I say. "A bit."

She smiles. "That's cool."

I shrug. "It's alright. How about you? Is there anything cool I don't know about you yet?"

"Um. Well… Let me think." She says, thinking. "Um… nope. I'm pretty ordinary."

"I'm sure that's not true. You know I think everything is pretty cool. Like knitting. That's pretty cool. Do you knit?" I ask.

"No but I can sew." She says.

"Cool." I say smiling.

We arrive at the restaurant. I walk inside with her still on my arm. The hostess smiles at us and shows us to a table. The restaurant is lit primarily by candles on the tables. How high class!

I sit across from my beautiful date and place my napkin in my lap. The waiter comes very soon afterwards and we order our food right away. I also order two glasses of wine along with our water.

I look at her after the waiter leaves. She looks around nervously, looking around the restaurant, hiding part of her face with her hand and letting her big hair cover some of her face.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

She looks at me and nods. "Kind of. I feel underdressed."

I look around, she is pretty underdressed for the establishment, and in comparison to me. I shouldn't have worn a tie.

Even so, I shrug. "Whatever, that doesn't mean you don't belong here as much as any of these other people. If anything, it just says that you came on a whim rather than after a plan. It just says you're spontaneous. That's a good thing."

"I guess." She says looking around again.

I sigh. "It doesn't matter anyways."

She looks at me. "Why?"

"Because you're not trying to impress anybody here." I say. "In all honesty, the only person whose opinion you should care about is mine, because I'm the person you're on a date with. And I don't think it matters if you impress me because I think you could wear rags and still put all these other women in here to shame. You're beautiful."

She blushes. "Oh gosh. You're really charming."

I smile. "Am I?"

"Yeah, and it just makes you more handsome than you already are." She says, not looking at me and hiding her face with her hand a bit. She's still looking around the restaurant, looking for gazes.

"Hey." I say, taking her hand away from her face. "Just look at me. Talk to me."

She looks at me, looks away and looks back. "Okay."

"Tell me about your day." I say.

"I didn't really do anything today." She says.

"That's definitely not true. Because sitting around and staring at the wall is still something." I say. "Please don't leave anything out. I do want to hear all of it."

"Fuck, why are you so goddamn cute?" She asks rhetorically. "Um. Ok. I woke up this morning and got some coffee before work. Then I worked all day, and met you about halfway through. Then I struggled through the rest of the day, being anxious for this date. And now this is happening and I don't know what to do."

"Don't worry about what to do." I laugh and let go of her hand. "But that sounds like a nice day."

"So far." She says smiling nervously. "I'm sorry if I'm acting anxious."

"That's ok." I say. "I get nervous about things too."

"It's not my fault." She says. "I have an anxiety disorder."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? So you get anxious all of the time?"

She just nods.

"That must be difficult." I say. "I did some research and I think I suffer from a depersonalization disorder."

"Really?" She asks. "That can get pretty serious."

I nod. "Yeah. I have out of body experiences frequently. Also, sometimes I'll do things, just react in the moment and I won't feel like it's me doing those things. It's like I'm watching myself do it, or I won't realize that I'm doing it. Or as if my actions weren't mine. It's odd, to say the least but it's not serious I don't think. I can still look in the mirror and know that it's me staring back. Sometimes I don't recognize myself though. Sometimes I'll look at myself in the mirror and just frown. Like, is that me? I look in mirrors a lot."

"Are you narcissistic or something?" Kim asks, watching me as I look at myself in my spoon's reflection.

"No." I say frowning and feeling like my brain is getting warm. "More like… Checking to make sure that I'm still here, that I'm still me, and that I'm not somebody I can't recognize."

It's quiet for a moment before I put my spoon down and sigh.

"Are you ok?" She asks.

I nod. "Yeah, just thoughtful. I'm thinking about how, everyone on some level, is crazy in their own way. Some, definitely more than others."

"Well…" She starts. "Have you been keeping up with the news?"

I nod. "A bit."

"Have you seen the new thing about the Citadel Vigilante?" Kim asks. "He's all anybody talks about but it's kind of neat to get everyone's opinion on him. Everyone seems to have a different opinion about him, either they're for him or against him."

"I don't really have an opinion." I say. "I mean I can get that he's trying to make a difference in the crime, but it's bad for my business so I'm sort of opinion less."

"I personally think he's doing the right thing in the wrong way." Kim says. "I mean he's doing a great job, stopping criminals. But why go so far? Why can't he just like, beat them up? Like Batman? Just rough them up and scare them into not doing crime?"

"It won't stop them though." I say with a shrug. "If he just roughs them up, they'll just heal and do bad things all over again. And then he'll never be done with whatever it is he's trying to do."

"What do you think he's trying to accomplish?" She asks.

I shrug again. "Peace? I don't know."

"You can't achieve peace with death." She says.

I shrug again. "Sure you can. If you eliminate all of the elements that could possibly cause death, then by process of elimination you have achieved peace. If you throw two angry dogs into a pen, once they hurt each other badly enough, they'll both back away and leave the other be, for the time being at least. If one dies, then there is nothing left to kill so peace is there."

"So you're saying peace is temporary?" She asks.

"I would say fleeting. But so is everything." I say. "But like a sunrise, it can be glorious, all the same, and it'll always be there again, no matter how fleeting it is."

She just hums a small sound to that comment and seems to think for a while. The food arrives after a short silence. I eat one of the pieces of my sushi roll, and it's out of this world delicious. I offer Kim one of my pieces and we exchange to try each other's sushi. I eat the piece she gave me. Mine is better. I fumble with my chopsticks. I'm still pretty new to these things and sushi is definitely difficult to pick up with chopsticks. My tongue protrudes slightly from the corner of my mouth as I focus on getting the delectable morsels into my mouth but gosh darn if it isn't challenging to do so.

"Having some trouble there?" She asks, watching me struggle with my food.

I notice she's already finished and I'm barely halfway done. Embarrassed, I take a sip of wine and try to laugh it off.

"Just a bit." I respond, chuckling a little. A little awkwardly, I should say.

She laughs, despite my awkward discomfort. "Do you need some help?"

"No, no." I say. "I can handle it. In fact I think I'll just take this to go. Would you like some dessert?"

She shakes her head. "I'm ok."

"You sure?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I nod and wave the waiter over. "I'd like a box to take this home, and the check please."

"Here you are, sir." The waiter says, handing over the check. "And I'll be right back with your container."

I look at the check. Wow, this was some expensive crap.

"How much is it?" Kim asks.

She must have noticed me change expressions upon examining the bill. I look at her and see her with her purse in hand, digging through it. She produces a credit chit.

"No please." I say, waving her off. "I'll take care of it."

"No way." Kim says. "Let me at least split the check. I can pay for it I think."

To emphasize her point, she puts her credit chit on the table and slides it towards me.

"I'd like to take care of the bill." I say, waving her off.

"I do not like to accept gifts." Kim says shaking her head. "Or things in general that I don't deserve. Please, let me split the check."

"Kim, all beautiful girls deserve a nice dinner once in a while." I sigh out of my nose. "Please, allow me just this one dating norm: Let me, the guy, handle the check on the first date. And if it makes you feel any better, we can call it an IOU, not gratuity or obligation. So if you must insist, you can pay next time, maybe."

She looks at me reluctantly and only takes her credit chit back once I've given the waiter mine along with the check. He places a box on the table and strides off for a moment.

Kim sighs and looks at me. "I enjoyed this evening, Jack."

"I did as well." I say. "Thanks for being here with me."

"Same. I mean, you too. Is that the right thing to say? Yeah." She says, talking to herself through half the sentence.

"But it's not over yet is it?" I ask.

"It's not?" She asks.

"No, I mean, unless you want it to be." I say. "I was thinking we could just walk for a while, and talk, you know?"

"I don't know…" She says. "I mean I really would love to walk with you, but the streets can be pretty dangerous."

"Well… We can go to my apartment. It's just up the street and it's really safe. And it's got a gorgeous view of the Ward." I say, knowing how absurd it must sound for me to ask her to my apartment on the first date. "I won't try anything, trust me."

"Ok." She says, sounding a bit nervous but still eager to spend the evening with me.

Appropriately, of course.

The waiter returns with my credit chit and hands it back to me. He thanks me for the evening and I lead my date out of the restaurant. Even though it's getting a bit late, the Summit Strip is still bustling with activity.

"So where do you live?" Kim asks.

I point to my building. "There."

She hits me on the stomach. "Don't joke. Where?"

I frown at her and point again. "Right there."

She gives me a look but laughs. "Ok. Sure. Let's go."

I shake my head and just keep walking. We walk into my building and to the elevator. There is a retinal scan that opens it.

I lean towards it and she stops me.

"Come on." Kim says. "Enough fooling around. Very funny, ha, ha. But you can't expect me to believe that you live here."

I frown at her and just let the retinal scan do its job.

"_Greetings, Mr. Carmine." _A virtual intelligence says. _"How was your evening, sir?" _

"So far so good." I say looking at Kim who stares at me wide eyed.

I step into the elevator but she doesn't follow. "Aren't you coming?"

She nods and hops into the elevator just as the doors close and the elevator automatically takes me up to my apartment. It doesn't take long for the elevator to arrive at my floor, seeing as how it is on the fourth floor. The doors open and I walk towards my apartment.

"_Welcome home, Mr. Carmine." _The VI says as my apartment doors open.

"Thank you." I respond, turning back to Kim who slowly walks into my apartment as I gesture inside.

"Holy shit." She says, looking around the spacious main room. "You're rich as fuck."

"I know good people." I say, removing my sweater and placing it on a chair.

"Like, is this really happening right now?" Kim asks, rhetorically, turning to me.

I frown as I walk over to my bar, rolling up my sleeves, loosening my tie and undoing the top button of my shirt. "What do you mean? Would you like a scotch?"

She nods. "I mean, like is this really happening? Am I really on a date with a gorgeous, young, rich guy who isn't mean?"

I shrug. "I guess. That's not really for me to decide."

I pour two fingers of scotch for the both of us and put in some ice and I return to her as I lead her out onto my patio, towards some of the chairs.

I gesture to a seat and sit next to her and light the fire pit with my omni-tool. I take a sip of my scotch and put it down.

She holds her drink tight and close to her chest, like a cross. "This whole night I was trying to find something wrong with you. Like… There has to be something wrong with you. You're too handsome, so I was like maybe he's got a flabby stomach. So I did an ab check and normally I could care less about abs but holy shit dude. It felt like I was hitting the back of my hand on a pile of rocks. Like. Literally. And nobody has abs like that nowadays just movie stars. And when we were walking and I was holding your arm, my arms barely fit around them. Like what the fuck. So I was like, he's got to be a retard, like he has to be so stupid. A meathead, dumbass. Nope. Apparently you graduated high school early. So he's got to be a douche pants. But no, you're super nice. Then you take me here, and it turns out you're rich too."

"And this is a problem?" I ask with a frown. "I mean I'm completely flattered, and I don't really think I'm as great as you make me out to be. I'm alright. I mean…"

"And you're modest too." She sighs and puts her drink down. "It is a problem. Because what am I? I don't deserve somebody as great as you! I've been on maybe 3 dates total. Including this one. And the first two barely counted and they never became anything and the guys never even called them dates. Like what the fuck! I mean, fuck! I don't deserve this! I'm not-"

"Hey." I say, interrupting her. "Shut up."

She stops and looks at me with sadness in her eyes.

I sigh and frown, sad that she's sad. "Look at me. You need to stop. There's no such thing as karma, there's no such thing as divine influence. The universe does not decide a damn thing for you. It's not up to the universe or anybody but you when it comes to what you deserve, ok? You deserve kindness, and happiness and whether or not you seize it when it comes to you is up to you. And don't you ever say you don't deserve somebody, because everyone does but it's never up to you whether you deserve a person or not. It's never up to you and it's never up to me. When it comes to people, for once it's not up to you or anybody. I came to you because I deserve companionship, somebody I can spoil and care for and because I deserve something beautiful to look at in this bleak miserable world. It's not up to you whether you deserve me or not. It's not up to me either. It isn't up to anybody. If you're the person to give me what I deserve then, so be it, and I hope that is true. You deserve kindness, happiness, love, and affection. And if I'm the person to give you what you deserve, then so be it. I hope that is the case."

She looks at me for a long time and she takes a huge breath. "This has to be a game. You're too charming. You're trying to make a move."

"I give you a heartfelt speech and you play it off like I'm trying to make a move on you like some typical bar pick up artist." I shake my head. "I have to say, that makes me a little upset. I'm not making a move. I'm a gentleman."

"But I swear to God, that's something that would come out of a crappy romance movie but you said it and I fucking swooned. I _swooned._ Like I've never swooned in my life." She says, looking at me.

"So?" I say with a shrug, shaking my head. "Listen, if you don't believe that I'm just genuinely interested in being in a relationship with you, that I'm just trying to get into your pants then I don't know why you're still here. I wouldn't have come up to you today if I didn't think you were beautiful and nice and that I don't want to be with you, ok? I'm not a pig. I just want to talk with you and spend time with you and figure out if you're the right person for me or not."

"I'm confused." She says.

"Me too." I say looking at her.

We stare at each other for quite a while, palpable tension between us.

"Are we supposed to kiss now?" She asks.

"I don't know." I say. "You've been on more dates than I have."

"Shut the fuck up." She says sighing, the tension completely evaporated. "You're kidding me!"

"No." I say with a shrug. "I mean I've been with people but I didn't really ever date them like this. I didn't take them out to dinner and buy them flowers and… are confusing conversations part of typical dates?"

"Dude, a date could be as simple as watching a movie at home together." She says.

I nod. "I know. A date could be a lot of stuff, but I never really went on dates, I just sort of met people and got together with them."

"So you're a slut?" She asks, sounding confused and looking at me.

"Not like that!" I exclaim looking at her. "Way to ruin the moment."

I sigh and get to my feet but she grabs my hand and we meet eyes again and I sit back down, closer this time.

"Uh oh." She says, looking at me in the eyes. "Here's that tension again."

"Yeah." I say getting lost in her eyes once more.

The tension builds like before and we both find we're leaning in really, really, really slowly.

"Your hand is on my thigh." She says as we continue to bring our faces closer, millimeter by millimeter.

"My hand was in my lap." I say, the tension still climbing. "But your thighs found their way to my lap."

"How did that happen?" She asks, our lips just a few inches away.

"I dunno." I mumble. "You're shaking, are you ok?"

"Yeah, just freaking out." She says her lips about three inches from mine.

"Why?" I ask, my eyes drifting shut.

"This is going to be my first kiss…" She says, breathlessly, her lips just touching mine.

Despite the electricity that fires through my face, I recoil and grab her shoulders, moving to arms distance. "Wait what?"

"What the fuck you tease!" Kim exclaims in protest. "I was ready to sploosh my pants by how fucking tense it was there! Dude! We like just started kissing."

"Our lips just touched." I say letting go of her shoulders. "Doesn't count."

"It so does!" She protests.

"Does not!" I say. "You've never been kissed?! How old are you?!"

"20." She says with a shrug.

"Oh thank God." I say. "I was afraid you were going to say like 16 or something. Wait, you said 21 earlier!"

"I lied and I'm not totally sure why I did!" She says, a bit angrily. "I don't look 16!"

I nod. "Yeah, you don't, you look 20! That's why I asked you out! But I assumed that you've done all… this stuff already."

"What stuff?" She asks.

"Dating, kissing, all that stuff!" I say. "I mean I've been around the block more than a couple times and I'm not all that experienced when it comes to all that but I've done it!"

"Am I supposed to be impressed or something?" She asks, crossing her arms on her chest.

I shake my head. "You're really confusing."

"Me?!" She exclaims, making me jump in surprise. "A normal boy would love to kiss a girl! Who cares if it's my first kiss?!"

I pat my chest. "Me! I'm nervous, I'm scared, and I'm exposed here! What if I suck? I don't want to disappoint you! And I'm definitely not a 'boy'!"

"Dude." She says with a small laugh. "You could have put your tongue up my nose and I still would have juiced in your lap from all the tension."

"That was pretty fucking intense." I say thinking back. "Are you pissed at me?"

"Yes!" She exclaims. "That was such a fucking tease! I'm just ticked off! It's like you were standing on the galaxy's tallest mountain and I built the galaxy's tallest most awesome tower in my mind to get to you at the top and when I get up there and I'm an inch away from you, you jump off the mountain and parachute down! And here I am like, goddammit, I was so excited to see you, I forgot to build stairs. So yeah, I'm pretty pissed off at you."

"Well shit…" I say, hurt but then I notice something and grin at her. "But I mean I must still be doing something right."

"Huh?" She frowns at me.

"You're still sitting in my lap." I say, rubbing her lower back, where my hand has been this whole time, gripping her thigh slightly with my other hand.

"Goddammit." She says, not even attempting to get off me. "And I was about to win this and save face."

"Looks like we're both crappy at this." I say. "I'll call you a cab."

I use my omni-tool to call a cab to my patio and I stand, picking her up as I do, but putting her down immediately.

The cab arrives just seconds later and without her noticing I pre-pay the trip.

I open the door for her and she enters.

Kim looks at me. "This was a weird first date."

"And it was going so well." I say sarcastically. "But I had a good time."

She's quiet for a while before sighing loudly. "Yeah. Me too."

"We should do this again, sometime soon." I say with a smile.

She's quiet for a while again before again sighing loudly. "Yes, I suppose we should."

"What was that?" I ask. "Do you not want to?"

"Yeah. But only because I somehow know this'll end up hurting me." She says then looks at me. "But I'd be stupid if I didn't keep going with this. I'd be stupid for ignoring this stuff going through my head."

"What kind of stuff?" I ask with a frown.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Kim says with a small laugh, shutting the door and sending the cab away.

I watch the cab fly away.

Fuck.


	10. Chapter 10: Discharge

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUSTICE**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers. Though, there's really nothing I can do to stop you. Enjoy.**

**CHAPTER 10**

**DISCHARGE**

**##########################################################**

**It's January 29****th****, 2174 and it's late. I watch Kim's cab fly away. I feel like I succeeded at my date but I have no frame of reference so I'm not positive. At the least, I piqued her interest. Now, I have business to take care of.**

I smile to myself and retrieve our glasses. I don't remember her taking a drink of her scotch at all. I empty both of the glasses by downing the remainder in each glass and wash them before returning them to the bar. I head upstairs and shower, slowly this time.

I put on my plate carrier suit, sans underwear because who needs it in this thing? I put on my black BDU pants and blouse them into my black no shine combat boots. I have half the outfit of the Citadel Vigilante on but my armor is back at the Warehouse. Well, most of it. My helmet is always attached to my plate carrier suit, to the silver metallic spine on the back.

I do some stretches to makes sure the clothes sit properly before putting on my shoulder holster. I grab my revolvers and holster them before putting on my jacket, zipping it up all the way to the neck. I look at myself. I don't think this looks very subtle. All black head to toe? Maybe I should try for some variety. Maybe a different jacket? Something less tactical?

I unblouse the pants from my boots. Now I look relatively normal. Relative being the key word there.

I replace my credit chit with one of 5 burner chits I bought at a store and head out. I know the best path to the nearest chute now and it's less than a minute from my apartment building. Luxury and convenience usually don't come hand in hand but for once they do.

I use the chute to travel to the Warehouse. Once I arrive I head straight inside and remove my jacket as I enter.

"Jack." Vaas says, nodding to me as he eats from a can.

I nod back. "How's Turok?"

"Good for somebody who got pretty fucked up a few hours ago." Vaas says. "His krogan healing kicked in about two hours ago, but he'll be out of action for the rest of the week most likely."

I nod and head over to where I keep my armor. Senna sits conveniently close by.

"Hey there." I say as I pick up my torso armor. "You look glum."

"Of course I'm glum!" Senna hisses at me. "No power equals no hacking! Why do you think I've been in such a bad mood?"

"Human females have these things called periods once a month." I say. "I've only known you for a few weeks so I figured that it was about your time."

"What? Yuck!" Senna scowls at me. "Asari do not bleed from our genitals like you malfunctioning humans do. Nor do we become bitter once a month."

"So you're just bitter all the time then?" I ask sarcastically as my armor snaps shut around my torso.

"A sense of humor?" Senna gives me an angry face but appears amused by my jest. "Where are you off to, Vigilante?"

"Damascus Energy." I say pulling on my armored sleeves. "I did some research on them. Turns out that they're working on something called a microfusion battery. It's like a nuclear power plant in something that will fit in the palm of your hand. I plan on taking a couple to power this place."

"What makes you think that's going to work?" Senna asks watching me get ready.

"Well." I start as I begin to put my leg armor on. "According to my research the batteries have half-lives of about 6,000 years and are designed to power shipboard energy weapons for as long as the ships are operational, so I figure they can power a building for the time we're here."

"Ok great but I mean how do expect to break into a corporate research facility alone?" She asks.

"Well, I was going to ask you if you could watch my back." I say straightening and grabbing my belt.

She frowns at me. "I'm no good with a gun. Why not ask Vaasarah?"

"No I mean like hack into the security systems and help me through the building." I say letting my helmet close around my head.

"How-"

"Wait, wait, wait." I say putting my belt around my waist. "This is my favorite part, check this out."

I look at myself in a small mirror next to Senna and clip my belt on. Now that my armor has completely been put on, my armor's system activates. The eerie green indicator lights on my armor activate all at once and make me look fucking awesome. Especially the eyes. I look like a ghost or something.

The spine on my back comes to life, reaching out and attaching to my armor. The plates of my armor all shifts slightly as it's seized by my metallic spine and are manipulated based on my movements. It looks almost as if my muscles ripple, but it's just my armor shifting and settling.

"That is so cool." I say with a small laugh.

I unclip and reclip my belt repeatedly for a few seconds, watching the green lights flash on and off.

"Hey quit doing that!" Vaas shouts at me. "It's not a toy, goddammit!"

I clip my belt together one last time and nod at my reflection as I kneel down to blouse my pants again. "Nice… Anyways what were saying Senna?"

"I was saying, how do you expect me to hack into the systems without any equipment?" She asks.

"That's the fun part!" I say with a big grin, my helmet collapsing away from my face. "I'm going to get you to some top notch equipment!"

"Where?" Senna asks.

"You won't like it when I tell you so you should just come with me." I say.

"No fuck off, tell me." Senna says.

"Under Dommar's Bar, in Escape18's old den." I say with a sigh.

"That's a fucking crime scene thanks to you." Senna says. "You have got to be joking. C-Sec is on my ass! There will be cops there guarding the place."

"Yeah, but it's not going to be monitored on their channels because who would think that you'd be hacking from a place guarded by C-Sec?" I ask.

"How do you plan on getting me inside?" She asks.

"A distraction!" I say with a grin. "I am going to distract them and you will just slip inside."

"This is so fucking risky." Senna says.

"Is that a yes?" I ask with a big smile.

"Ah, fuck you." Senna says getting to her feet, putting on a black leather jacket. "Fuck you!"

"That is a yes!" I say with a laugh. "Let's go!"

**##########################################################**

**Within the hour we arrive at Dommar's Bar. There are two C-Sec officers standing guard, lazily by the door. One is smoking and the other is fiddling with his omni-tool. Based on the fact that there is only one C-Sec vehicle nearby, there must only be these two.**

**Hopefully, at least.**

"This is so stupid." Senna says. "We are going to get caught."

I shake my head. "No we aren't. Just hide behind those trash cans and slip inside once I get them away from the door."

"Goddammit." Senna says, sneaking away.

"Hey take your shoes off." I say as she leaves.

"What? Why?" Senna asks.

"Why would you wear heels to this?" I ask. "They're the worst shoe to be wearing in this situation."

"I like these shoes!" Senna growls. "Just shut up and distract them!"

I roll my eyes and wait for her to sneak off.

I sneak over to the bar, hiding around the corner to the bar. Senna is on the other side, closer to the door. All I have to do is get them to chase me. Easy!

I let my helmet close over my head and walk out from around the corner, looking down the street as if I'm checking to make sure there isn't anybody coming.

I turn to look at the C-Sec officers just as they notice me.

"Hey!" One of them shouts. "Fuck that's the guy everyone's after!"

They both draw their guns and point them at me, facing me. I see Senna sneak behind them into the bar. I bolt off away from the bar, running down the street, not as fast as I can run though.

"Fuck! Go after him, I'll stay here!" I hear one of the C-Sec officers say.

I look over my shoulder and watch as the turian guard starts pursuing me while the batarian one stays next to the door to the bar, more alert than ever now.

The turian sprints after me. Thinking back to when I first found the Warehouse, I remember one of the officers chasing me was a turian and he was fast as all hell. This one is just as fast. Maybe all turians are fast runners? I can see why. His running posture is like that of a raptor, leaning forward a lot, powerful digitigrade legs propelling him forward like some giant chicken.

I start sprinting full on and I hear the turian curse in surprise as I round a corner and sprint off into an alleyway. I keep running making turns but making sure he can see me make the turns. I reach the end of the alleyway but this is where a chute happens to be. I quickly get into it, using the hatch to hold myself in place.

I wait.

I hear his footsteps approaching.

"What?" I hear him say breathless. "Dispatch, come in dispatch. I pursued the suspect about… a klick higher. I saw him make the turn here but… he's gone it's a dead end. Over."

There's a slight pause. "Roger that. I'll hold position until backup arrives at my location. Pinging my locations. Out."

I smile, satisfied with my work. Hopefully, that'll keep the guards busy enough that they don't check the basement of the bar anytime soon.

**##########################################################**

**In no time at all, I arrive at Damascus Energy. Per Senna's instructions, I have infiltrated via the ventilation ducts. According to the building plans and the project management files she's accessed, the microfusion batteries should be in the project labs below the building itself. These ducts will get me there in the quickest and quietest, albeit in the most uncomfortable manner.**

I shimmy forward. These ducts are a very, very tight fight. But thank goodness that I'm not claustrophobic. Using just my toes and my hands I inch myself forward.

"This is taking too long." I grunt, still continuing.

"_Well, you won't be going much farther according to these schematics." _Senna says. _"There will be a very abrupt drop coming up very soon."_

"How soon?" I ask, stopping.

"_Very."_ Senna responds.

I sigh out of my nose and continue forward but find that the drop was directly in front of me. My progress is too slow for my weight to carry me down as my hands slip into the abyss, but I am still taken by surprise.

I curse and halt myself.

"_Did you fall down the duct?" _Senna asks. _"Please say that you did."_

I sigh out of my nose again in impatient anger. "No I didn't. Sorry to burst your bubble. Could you please take this a little bit more seriously?"

"_Sorry." _Senna says. _"At any rate. Even though you didn't fall surprised, you have to fall down that thing anyways."_

I click my tongue and decide that there will never be an easy way to tackle this obstacle so I just push myself forward and lean forwards, letting gravity take me down the air duct. I feel weightless and the air gets pleasantly cool for a moment as I fall down this shaft.

It's a short fall though and I slide back into a duct, this one much roomier than the one I came in with. It's large enough for me to hunch over in but I take a quick break kneeling while I pull up a video comm with Senna.

"Alright, can you show me where I am and what's around me?" I ask.

She nods_ "Yeah. Here's a quick overlay. You're right here."_

A small green blip appears showing me where I am on the overlay.

"_The batteries are here." _Senna says and a red blip appears relatively close by. _"You're going to have to exit the air ducts pretty soon, but on the bright side, you'll be pretty much right on top of the batteries. I'm checking security feeds and the building is quiet. No guards are on that floor right now and I hacked into the security feeds and I'm running a loop through their monitoring systems. You're in the clear, Jack."_

I nod. "Good. I'll be quick. Can you give me a general idea of what these batteries will look like?"

"_Like this." _Senna brings up an image of a big blocky battery, very similar in appearance to a car battery, but a bit smaller.

I nod. "Alright, got it. I'll get a battery or two and get out no problem."

I close the call and continue down the shaft, slowly, moving so my weight doesn't make the ducts make any noise.

"_Alright, you're where you need to be. There should be a vent or something nearby." _Senna says over my comm.

I spot the vent I need to pull myself out of immediately. Shouldn't be any problem. I pop the vent out and pull myself out and drop down to the ground. I look around. Nobody and nothing in sight. This is going fantastically smooth. I move quickly to the lab indicated by the overlay but the glass door is shut and won't open.

A keypad lights up requesting authorization.

"Senna." I say frowning at the keypad. "I'm at the lab but it's saying I need authorization."

"_No problem I can take care of it." _Senna says. _"Just give me a few seconds… There you go."_

The doors open with a quiet whoosh and a chill wafts out.

I nod appreciatively. "You're proving yourself very useful, my beautiful dark rose."

"_Enough of the sweet talk, get the batteries and get out. I don't like it here." _Senna says.

"Bet you like me calling you dark rose." I say.

_"... kind of. Just shut up and finish this please." _Senna says.

I roll my eyes and enter the lab. I walk towards the batteries, a total of five all arranged on a table neatly. I detach them from all their bases and start loading them into my back pack. They're each roughly the relative size of a football and weigh at least 15 pounds each but they'll all fit. And despite their size, they each hold a massive power source, capable of powering my Warehouse for many years to come.

"Senna." I say checking the time on my omni-tool. "I have the batteries and I'm beginning my exfiltration now."

"_Hang on, there should be a small device that's used to monitor latent energy readings." _Senna says. _"It should look something like a radar gun, but smaller. Look around for it before you go, it'll help us install it here."_

I put my backpack on the ground and start searching for the device. Too easy. I pick it up and examine it before returning to my backpack.

"I've got it Senna." I say. "Heading out."

There's no response.

"Senna?" I ask with a frown.

Worried, I grab my backpack and head towards the exit, but just as I'm about to leave it shuts tight and a metal shutter falls down in front of it, sealing me in.

"_Intruder Alert." _A VI announces. _"Intruder Alert. Intruder Alert. All security personnel, report to your emergency positions. Intruder Alert. All security personnel, report to floor 1 to apprehend the intruder. Intruder Alert."_

"Fuck!" I curse looking for a way out, while putting a rudimentary escape plan together in my head.

Wait. Did it say apprehend the intruder on the first floor? I'm on the basement level.

What's going on?

"Senna!" I say, drawing one of my revolvers and dropping my backpack on the ground. "Senna, I'm locked in the lab. I need you to unlock the lab so I can get out… Senna? Where are you?!"

I point my revolver at one of the windows into the lab and fire. The round ricochets right off without leaving a scratch and I'm unlucky enough for the round to rip into my hip.

"Fuck!" I grunt, falling to a knee. My hip is shattered, but it starts healing immediately. Wow, that really hurt. I don't envy the people I shoot with my guns.

I take a deep breath and get back to my feet as I feel my hip popping back into place.

"_Intruder Alert. Attention security personnel, report to basement level to apprehend the intruder." _The VI announces.

Is there another intruder? Or are they talking about me? I hear the energy reader in my other hand beeping. I look at it with a frown. It's ready a massive energy signature... but it's not coming from my backpack. I point the reader at the wall and slowly rotate following the beeping until it becomes a low pitched warbling. The reader is picking a huge energy signature nearby... and it's moving. I drop the reader into my backpack, draw my other revolver and wait.

**##########################################################**

**Meanwhile, Senna deals with an ordeal of her own.**

"Hang on, there should be a small device that's used to monitor latent energy readings." Senna says. "It should look something like a radar gun, but smaller. Look around for it before you go, it'll help us install it here."

Senna waits, monitoring the security feeds of Jack searching the labs. Something draws her attention away from Jack however. She directs her attention to the lobby camera. At this hour, there isn't even anybody working in there, just a security guard who lazes around behind the main desk, like he has all night.

Except for right now. He's moving to the front door. He opens it and somebody stumbles inside and collapses. The security guard lowers himself to help the person to their feet. The second both are standing however the person appears to punch the guard in the chest. The guard flies at least 15 feet across the floor and crashes into a planter, unconscious or dead.

The figure in the feed is humanoid and is wearing a dark hooded jacket, jeans and gloves, concealing their features. Needless to say, he isn't supposed to be there. He also has a messenger bag strapped over his shoulder. He appears to draw a gun and seek cover as some more guards appear to apprehend him.

Just as that's unfolding, Senna hears the door to the basement open and some footsteps begin to descend the stairs behind her.

"Shit!" Senna curses quietly, throwing herself out of her chair and behind the desk. She quickly yanks out all of the chords powering the computers.

She reaches into her jacket and produces a small caliber handgun and she clutches it tightly.

"_I've got it Senna." _Jack says into the comm in her ear. _"Heading out… Senna?"_

Senna doesn't respond, too afraid to talk, even whisper and give away her position as the new comer finishes descending the stairs, along with somebody else.

Senna peers at them through a space in the desk. She can see their legs. One is a turian and the other is a human female or asari.

"What makes you think it's connected?" The human or asari asks. Though, listening to her, she's more than likely human.

"Call it a hunch. My guts tell me there's something here. I mean they've been wrong before, but that was rare." The turian responds. "I just can't think it's a coincidence that an individual with a description similar to the one at the Corner Club hit, and at the docks explosion was also seen here inciting the riot that shut this place down and got Escape18 killed. And I can't think it's a coincidence that the individual of similar description at the docks was wearing a t-shirt with a silver chevron and our Vigilante was sighted here earlier and our Vigilante wears armor with that exact same chevron."

"_Senna! Senna, I'm locked in the lab. I need you to unlock the lab so I can get out… Senna? Where are you?" _Jack says over her comm. Senna winces as he talks, praying they can't hear it.

"You're right, there's too much to make it a coincidence." The human or asari says. "But, and I'm just playing devil's advocate here, wasn't there somebody of similar description to those 3 men who was also killed before this bar riot? Not to mention that the person who incited the riot at this bar was _not _wearing a shirt with the silver chevron unlike the hit at the club and the docks. And all those guys were humans, and the Vigilante is a batarian."

"He might be human." The turian says, beginning to look around the area.

"Yeah, might be." The human or asari says. "But you heard all the witnesses from the other night. He's way too big for most humans, and matches the body type common amongst batarian males. Not just that but the Da'Sha he wears is something that can only be earned in batarian culture through hardship so great that only a few have one."

"Personally I think the Da'Sha he wears is to try and trick people into thinking he's a batarian." The turian says. "I think he's human. He conceals his physical appearance from head to toe, but gives people a detail so specific that they can fixate on it. It's an old psychological trick. But I'll bide, what do you think is going on then, partner?"

"I think that there you're connectinh a couple different people as one person based on a few similar details. I think there was a guy who attacked the corner club who also was at the docks the day of the Cartel weapons trade. I think that guy is working for the Dix Ice Gang. Then, I think there's a guy who's unlucky enough to look like the Dix Ice hitman who got killed by the Cartel who then bribed their way into the morgue to recover the corpse because maybe it had some damning evidence on it. And I think there's a guy who either held a grudge against Escape18, or was paid to kill him and accidently incited a bar riot here. Finally, I think there's the Vigilante. 4 different people, Chellick. And have you ever considered the fact that this Vigilante is so intelligent, that he is using a noticeable, very specific detail, the chevron, to trick detectives like us into thinking he's who he wants us to think he is and that he's connected to these crimes that he didn't actually commit so that we get lost trying to make connections that didn't exist in the first place."

There's a length of silence.

"I think, that we should stop trying to create this web that might not exist and focus on the facts and what we know and the evidence we have for the Vigilante so that we can catch him before he kills more people. Chellick, we have so much work to do, they found literally like 20 more people who they believe were killed by the Vigilante based on the MO spread across the fucking Citadel on 3 different wards. Today! In a single fucking day, Chellick! We can't waste our time here, because you have a hunch when we could be examining evidence from the other crime scenes and building the real web." The human continues.

There's another length of silence.

"You're right." The C-Sec detective named Chellick says. "Yeah you're absolutely right. And I wish I could just drop this hunch and go find the facts but I'm not your typical detective, Miss Jordan. I am a fucking great detective. I never have a hunch I can't back up with evidence I have. Facts that I have. Escape18 and numerous other people killed at this bar were killed with a very specifically large caliber handgun. However no handgun matching those ballistics were found. The Cartel guys at the docks were incinerated pretty badly by the explosion, but we were able to determine that they were killed by gunshot wounds and they were big guns, and based on video evidence we can determine that the human assailant was using handguns. Finally we know that our Vigilante uses two large caliber handguns and I lined up the ballistic reports from all three cases and the guns used in all three cases are exact matches on caliber and mass accelerator footprint. Who's following hearsay now?"

"Fuck, Chellick." The C-Sec detective named Jordan says. "You do your homework."

"Fuck yeah I do. Now I figured that maybe Escape18 was doing work for our little riot starter who may or may not be our Vigilante as well. His servers haven't been sorted yet so I figured I'd just come to the source. So I'm going to search his records and see if I can get a list of names that may name our little Vigilante." Chellick says, grunting as he presses buttons to no effect. "If I could get them to work."

"Are they plugged in?" Jordan asks.

Senna feels her heart skip a beat.

**##########################################################**

**And at this very moment, Jack waits to see what he will be facing: An army of angry guards, an intruder after the same tech Jack is after, or maybe something a bit worse.**

I grip my revolvers tightly as I hear muffled gunshots sounds and cries of pain. Then it gets quiet really fast.

My grip tightens even more as I stare out of the window.

I wait, my breath held.

I see somebody run by the window and glance inside before they do a double-take and stop, staring at me.

This isn't a guard.

He's wearing a dark hooded jacket and has a messenger bag. His face is half concealed also by a scarf wrapped around his mouth and nose. In addition to this, he's wearing a dark knit cap. All I can really see are his eyes and some of his skin. His eyes have weirdly bright irises. But they're dull at the same time. Even in the low light though, his eyes glint like pieces of metal.

We stare at each other for a long time.

He glances around, looking at the window before looking at me again, and then looking at the blocked door. Then we just stare each other down for a while. Well isn't this tense.

I watch as he looks up and down the hall and gets close to the glass. He covers his face with his arm as he aims his gun at the window.

"I wouldn't do that." I say.

He pauses and looks at me.

"I tried already." I say. "And my guns are bigger than yours and they couldn't bust through that."

He looks at his gun and then lowers it, staring at me still.

"I'm guessing you're after these?" I ask, holstering a revolver and removing a battery from my backpack.

His eyes widen slightly but he doesn't say anything.

"I'll take that for a yes." I say. "Well, I need them too."

We just stare at each other for a while before he moves towards the door. I lose sight of him but then I hear a loud banging noise. Sounds like he's trying to break his way in.

That's going to take a while.

**##########################################################**

**...**

Senna holds her breath as she watches the turian's legs moving around the desk. Her grip tightens on her gun and she reaches behind her and grasps the wires for the computers. She blindly shoves them into the outlets in the wall, panic overtaking her.

"Oh!" Detective Jordan says. "They're turning on, Chellick."

"Oh, I guess they needed a second to warm up or something." Chellick says, musing to himself. "Let's see what we got here…"

Senna turns around as the turian returns to the front of the desk and finishes plugging in the rest of the chords. She slowly releases the breath she'd been holding, air rattling out of her lungs.

"Hm… It's got an encrypted log in." Chellick mumbles. "I don't have the equipment to get into this."

"Well, it was worth a shot I guess." Jordan says. "I guess we'll just have to wait for the techies to compile the data on the servers. In the meantime, we better get over to one of the crime scenes. I think we should go to the one at the apartment building, it's by far the bloodiest one."

"Yeah." Chellick says. "I can't help the feeling that I'm missing something though."

"Don't think about it so much." Jordan says. "Let's go partner."

"Right." Chellick says shutting off the computers and following his partner up the stairs and out of Senna's sigh.

Once she hears the basement door close, Senna scrambles out from behind the desk and turns the computers back on. She quickly hacks through the log in and is pleased to see all her applications are still open. She quickly hacks into the security system and isolates the lockdown to the first, second and third floors and isolates the labs from those floors, releasing the lockdown on the labs themselves.

With a smile, Senna switches to a camera feed of the labs and stares at Jack, standing in the middle of the lab with his revolvers in hand. But her smile vanishes as she sees the intruder from earlier step into the lab as well.

"I fucked up." Senna mumbles to herself.

**##########################################################**

**…**

"Senna you fuck up…" Jack mumbles as the door to the lab slides open and the man in black steps inside.

I point my revolvers at him but don't fire yet.

We stand there in stalemate for a second before he steps forward slowly, raising his hands as he drops his pistol.

I relax slightly. "Listen, there are five batteries here. I don't need them all. I'm sure we can come to an agreement. What do you need them for?"

The man in black doesn't say anything, just takes another step forward with his hands raised. I reaffirm my shooter's stance and raise my revolvers again.

"I'm not your enemy." I say. "We can work this out and both of us can get out without anybody getting hurt."

"I know who you are." The man in black says for the first time. His voice in undoubtedly human, low and firm. "You're that batarian going around killing criminals."

"I kill people who do wrong things. People who deserve to die." I say. "And I don't know yet, but something tells me that you're not a good person."

"Is that a threat?" The man asks. "For your information, I didn't kill anybody to get in here."

"Have you ever killed anybody?" I ask.

"Of course I have." The man responds. "Where I come from, it was as common among people as learning how to walk and talk. It wasn't about good, or evil. It was about survival."

I frown. "Survival is justified… But if you keep getting in my way, I will kill you."

"First off, I'm doing this for survival as well... And I don't think you'd be able to." He says. "I'm not that easy to kill."

"Neither am I." I say, my grip tightening as the tension of the situation builds.

The man makes a move to rush me and I open up on him, my revolvers firing off their complete clips. I know I hit him, but he still rushes me and rams into me, slamming me into the opposite wall. I holster my revolvers and activate my omni-blade, the blade shooting out of the bottom of my fist. I raise the blade up over my head and attempt to stab him through the back and through his heart but he throws himself back just in time. Not quite quickly enough, as the blade cuts his shoulder. He's very strong for somebody that thin. He probably weighs 160 soaking wet. 170 at the most.

The man in black doesn't leave any room for recovery, spinning around to plant a kick in my sternum. I move to the side and catch his leg under my right arm and slash the back of his knee with my omni-blade. He yelps in pain and jumps, spinning around and using his trapped leg to pivot himself through the air as his other leg connects with my head.

The armor takes the pain of the hit but the impact makes me fall over. Fuck that was a solid kick. I shake my head and get to my feet just as he gets to his, blood running down his leg. I rush him and block his knee strike before ramming my shoulder into his stomach. I lift him up off the ground and slam him into the floor. I quickly throw myself on top of him to keep him pinned underneath me with my significant weight. I raise myself up to bring my omni-blade down into his skull but he catches my arms with his, the blade inches from his face.

We struggle for a second, my strength just a fair amount greater than his, the blade inches closer and closer to his face. How is he this strong? I can over power him but only barely. And I can overpower anyone short of a meta with superhuman strength. Then something strange happens. I see him squeeze his eyes shut and a flash of light makes not only my omni-blade, but my armor malfunction. He uses the momentary confusion to throw me off of him before he gets back to his feet.

I get to my feet quickly, my body stiffer from my armor's malfunction. Suddenly I notice my inability to breath. Fuck! My helmet's malfunctioned. I gasp and struggle to remove my helmet manually. I gasp and yank at my helmet's clasps before I realize that removing my helmet by force will kill me thanks to the armor's counter measures. Fuck! There has to be an emergency release.

I struggle and struggle to find it, my vision getting dark. Suddenly something slams into my head with such great force that part of big chunk of my helmet breaks off. And as I fall over to the ground, something catches me by the hole in my helmet and rips it open more with impressive strength.

I gasp as air finally reaches my mouth and nose.

"Hey, you're not batarian. You're a human." The man in black says, a thick pipe in his hand. "Regardless, I can't have you following me. Be grateful that I saved your life, Vigilante."

I look up at him and get to my feet slowly as he brings the pipe back and slams it onto my exposed head. The pipe connects just fine but doesn't really do much thanks to my dense skull. I get knocked to the side a bit but I just look back up at him as I continue to straighten.

"What the…" The man says with a frown. "Why won't you fucking get knocked out?"

"It's not that easy." I say. "You're going to have to try harder than that."

The man frowns. "Alright. You asked for it."

He drops the pipe and removes his gloves. He pulls his hand back and I see that same strange flash of bluish light as he slams his fist into my head. The force is staggering and I feel face break, one of my eyes popping out of its socket.

I fall over to the ground, blood pouring onto the floor, my smashed eye rolling away.

"Oh God." The man says. "Oh fuck, I didn't mean to hit you that hard. I didn't mean to kill you, I didn't… What?"

More blood spills out of my face as I get to my feet once again.

"Why won't you fucking just stop?" The man asks. "You won't die either?"

I crack my neck as it gets stiff and my cheekbone pops back into my place, my unhinged jaw wrenching up painfully to reconnect to my fusing skull. The cuts on my face from the broken bones heal seamlessly and I feel voids in my mouth from where I lost teeth get filled by new ones that grow back in seconds. Then I lean my head back as my new eye fills in where the old one was lost. I clear my throat as the healing finishes.

"No. It's not that easy to kill me either." I say.

"Oh my God." The man says. "You're… I need to come with you."

"The fuck? You're lucky I'm going to let you go. No time to kill you how I want to kill you. Now get out of here before I shoot you in the face." I say retrieving my back pack.

"Please, take me with you." The man says, dropping his hood and lowering the scarf over his face. "I need to talk to you."

"What's there to talk about?" I ask with a shrug. "You're not going to stop me. You can't."

"Please!" The man pleads. He's human clearly, probably of mixed ethnic origin. His eyes are a stormy grey and he has pale skin that compliments a soft yet prominent bone structure and curved nose as well as large pale lips and slender jawline.

"No." I say again. I take a second to remove the bits of my helmet lying around. I leave the blood and the eye. I know they won't be able to do anything with that.

"Wait!" The man shouts grabbing my backpack.

I stop and keep my hold tight, as I draw my revolver again and point it at him. "Back off."

"Watch!" He shouts, opening the backpack and taking a microfusion battery in his hands.

"Put that back!" I shout shooting next to him.

But I frown in confusion as he grunts backing away a few steps as he grips the battery in his hands. Suddenly electricity arcs out of the battery into his hands and up his arms and into the ground and into his torso. He grunts and growls with clenched teeth as electricity courses into his body. Suddenly he opens his eyes and I see they're glowing bright blue. I notice his very pale greyish skin take on more color and he drops the battery, panting, smoke wafting off of his body.

"What the fuck?" I frown at him.

"We come from the same place, you and I." He says, his eyes now a vibrant electric blue, and slightly luminescent.

"What?" I ask.

But we're interrupted as I hear noises, voices and shouts of alarm.

"C-Sec!" Somebody shouts. "Give yourselves up!"

I curse and look at the man. "Come on, we have to go."

He nods and puts his hood back up but gives me his scarf. "For your face."

I nod and wrap it around my whole head, covering everything but my eyes as I put the battery the man took back into the backpack and pick the backpack up again. I draw my revolvers and exit the lab running back to the air duct I came in with.

I leap up and grab the duct and pull myself in, and even though it's quite a considerable leap, the man manages to do so as well.

I pause for a second and pull my communicator out of the remnant of my helmet. "Senna? Are you there?"

"_Yeah, I just got back on." _Senna says. _"What's going on?"_

I look at the man. "I made a new friend I guess."

"_The guy in black? Can you trust him?" _Senna asks.

I shrug. "I don't know but I guess I'll find out. How am I getting out of here?"

"_Take the ventilation duct in the opposite direction from the way you came and it'll lead out into an alleyway. If you head higher you can follow the alleyways to a chute back to the Warehouse. Can you make it from here? I need to get out of here. There were some detectives here, which is why I disappeared for a bit there." _Senna explains.

I nod. "Yeah, go ahead and go. I can make it from here."

"_Good luck, Jack. I'll see you at the Warehouse." _Senna says.

"Wait, wait!" I exclaim. "What do you mean by, 'head higher?'"

"_Like as in, head towards the Upper Ward? It's like, cardinal directions, you know? Like go higher to get to the Upper Wards, and go lower to get to the Lower Ward?" _Senna explains.

"Ooooooh!" I say with a slow nod. "Makes total sense. Anyway, go ahead and go, I'll see you back."

"Got it." Senna says.

I look at the man. "Follow me."

He nods, and I can tell he nods because his eyes glow dully in the darkness. We head in the direction that Senna indicated until we both find a large vent that leads into the alleyway. I kick it open and poke my head out, looking around for anybody that might see us. Nobody in sight and I hop out into the alley. I lead the man deeper into the alley and break out into a slow run in the direction we have to go. Eventually, we get to the chute, without hindrance.

I open it for the man and look at him. "Get in."

"Where does it go?" He asks.

"Somewhere safe." I say. "Go, I'll be right behind you."

He looks reluctant but hops inside and I follow close behind, shutting the door behind me.

I listen to his shout in alarm at every turn in the chute. It's humorous, to say the least. At the other end I find him seated on the lift, looking disoriented. I lower the lift and laugh, removing his scarf and handing it back to him.

"Thanks." I say.

He shrugs. We hop off the lift and enter the Warehouse.

"Senna?" I call.

She rounds a corner and looks at me. "I'm here."

I nod. "Good, I was worried you may have been caught."

She shakes her head. "The guard saw me leaving but I played it off like I was a hooker looking for cheap booze."

"Nice." I say with a nod and a smile.

She shrugs and taps me on the arm. "I've learned from the best." She frowns as the man enters the Warehouse. "Who is this?"

"He's… I actually don't know his name." I say.

"So you brought a potentially crazy person here?" She asks.

I shrug. "I'm in no position to judge. I was curious about him, sue me."

The man approaches. "I'm glad you trusted me enough to take me with you, Vigilante."

"It's not about trust. More like curiosity, like I said." I look at Senna then back at the man. "And my name's Jack."

I start walking to my little table, dropping the backpack full of batteries next to it.

"Vaas!" I shout. "Get over here!"

He comes to me, and frowns. "What the fuck did you do to my armor?"

"Damn thing shorted out." I say. "I couldn't breathe and my helmet wouldn't come off. This guy smashed it off of my head."

"Here, let me get my tools." Vaas says walking off.

"Anyways." I say looking at the man. "Who are you?"

"My name is Desmond. Desmond Pierce." He says. "And I think we're alike, you and I."

"You said that earlier." I say as Vaas returns to remove what remains of my helmet. "What did you mean?"

"I mean…" Desmond sighs. "I'm a meta-human. And I'm not from here."

I frown at him. "You're a what?"

Desmond nods. "A meta-human. You're one too right?"

"Yes." I say frowning at him still. "Ok, I want you to explain to me how you came to the Citadel and I don't want you to lie. I want the truth."

"Ok." Desmond says. "I was travelling from Atlanta, Georgia towards the Great Lakes while looking for a better place to stay because food was getting scarce. The year was 2283. It was late evening. There was this flash of bluish white light and I woke up here on the Citadel, approximately 100 years prior. But there was no such thing as the Citadel from what I remember. I did research and found out that I was in some kind of alternate timeline. I've only been here for about month now. I think I got here on January 4th."

"That makes sense." I say. "The same happened to me. I was in San Diego, California. 2283. I was hiding out in a bunker and then there was the light. I ended up on the Aroch Ward on January 4th as well."

I lied.

Desmond smiles. "I thought I was the only one."

"If you're here then there must be more meta-humans here too." I say with a frown. "There might be many."

Desmond nods. "Yeah there might be. We should try to find them."

I shake my head. "And accomplish what? If they're smart they'll stay hidden for now, try to blend in as best they can. What have you been doing for the last month?"

"Just that." Desmond says. "I've been laying low. Trying the local food. I made money by selling some of the things I had with me when I came but that's dried up. And because of my powers, I need to not only eat food to survive but I also need to absorb energy in order to not only use my powers but to also like… live."

"What are your powers?" I ask, waving Vaas away as he finishes removing my helmet. I set about removing my armor.

"What's all this about powers?" Vaas asks. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I'll explain later." I say. "Go away."

He glares at me but leaves.

"Your powers?" I ask looking at Desmond.

"I'm a Beta class meta-human." Desmond says. "I need to absorb energy, primarily electricity to survive. But once it's inside me, I can expel it at will. With a good amount of energy, I can fire bolts of lethal lightning. I can also use electricity to manipulate magnetics to an extent and adhere myself to metal surfaces and propel myself towards or away from metal objects and I have some telemagnetic abilities. But the lightning is most useful. When I have energy in my system, I heal extremely fast, I'm really strong for my size and I don't get tired until that energy is used up. And if I'm sparing with my abilities, I can last up to a month without draining anything. I can sense where objects of great electrical current are. Those batteries are some of the brightest things around, and I could drain those without compromising any of the electrical systems in the area. Not only that, but those things are practically endless sources of power for me. I can drain them without ever depleting their power output."

"Interesting." I say with a nod. "Electricity powers, eh?"

He nods. "Yeah. What about you?"

"Nothing quite as versatile." I say. "I don't know where I fall in on the class scale, but I'd call myself an Epsilon class meta-human. I have incredibly dense bones, muscles and skin, making me resilient to most forms of harm. I heal about as quickly as I get injured and as a result, my muscles never atrophy so I'm at a physical peak. In addition, I can't really be harmed by normal means. You'd really have to just eviscerate or mutilate me to actually kill me. Or blast my head apart. And on top of all that, I can't really die."

"What do you mean you can't die?" Desmond asks.

"Well, I _do _die, I just come back to life after 8 hours." I say with a shrug. "I age, if you're curious, but whenever I die, my body regenerates and rolls back the clock for me. Once, I died of old age and came back in the body of a 23 year old man."

"That's incredible!" Desmond exclaims. "That's… How old are you?"

"23 to everyone. But in reality..." I think for a second. "239 years old."

Desmond blinks. "No shit. You're immortal then?"

I shrug. "So far."

"Sounds to me like you're more of an Alpha class meta-human." Desmond says.

"I can't like, destroy the planet." I say, rolling my eyes. "I can just survive a planet getting destroyed."

"What'd they call you?" Desmond asks. "Humans loved to name us. What'd they call you?"

I frown at him and don't answer for a second. "I've had many names over the years. Prometheus was my personal favorite."

"Appropriate." Desmond grins. "They called me Discharge."

"Discharge." I say with a frown. "That's almost better than your actual name."

"Ouch." Discharge says with a small laugh. "So what's going to happen now?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure. These people here, they're in danger and I'm keeping them safe. They don't know much about my powers or my past, but I guess you being here will help. You can stay here if you want to, but you don't necessarily need protection so you don't need to stay if you don't want to. It might actually be helpful for you to be here, seeing as how you're the only other person other than myself that can come and go as they please. But I'm warning you. You know more than most people around me do. If you let any information out whatsoever, I will come and kill you, no matter how many attempts I have to make."

"That's slightly terrifying." Discharge says. "To think that no matter how many times I kill you, you can always come back to finish the job. I don't want to be on your bad side Prometheus."

I nod to him. "Come with me so I can talk to the people that live here."

**##########################################################**

**I gather the audience. Vaas, Senna, Draco and Turok and with the help of Discharge, we tell them where we are from and what we can do. We tell them about how these impossibilities came to be and how they can bring great suffering as much as great prosperity.**

The story rounds out to a close and the floor is open for questions now. They know everything and we performed several demonstrations to prove to them that meta-humans do exist.

"Who knows about this?" Vaas asks after a stretch of silence. "Just us?"

"To our knowledge." Discharge says. "From what I can tell by watching the news, meta-humans are staying hidden, like we always have. In the wastes, even after the Great War, humans and meta-humans never got along and humans always outnumbered us. We were always hunted. I don't know if Jack and I are the only two meta-humans who jumped the timeline, but if we aren't the others are staying hidden well."

"What about the powers?" Senna asks. "Like what can meta-humans do most of the time?"

"It always varies, person to person." I say. "Sometimes there are two people, usually family, who have powers that are very similar, but just like a soul or a fingerprint, no two are quite exactly the same. In the earliest days, when meta-humans were first beginning to be studied, they were categorized by the strength of their ability or the effect that it has on them. Alpha, Beta, Epsilon, Gamma and Omegas. Omegas are the least powerful and their genome creates obvious physical changes, marking them as meta-humans all the time, without any real usefulness to their powers. Like having a beak or something. They are usually killed off immediately. Gammas are one step up. Their appearance is altered by their genes, but to some extent their physical form offers them useful abilities. Like having incredible running speed for having animal-like legs, flight because of wings or incredible strength because of your ape-like body. They sometimes last longer than Omegas, but again are usually killed shortly after birth. Epsilons are somewhere in the middle. They have powers that are useful, that may or may not change their physical appearance, and if so, not much. But they may or may not be in control of their powers. I think I am an Epsilon class meta-human, but arguably I may be a Beta. Betas have very useful powers that do not alter their physical appearance, and they may or may not have control over them either. Then there are the rarest meta-humans, the Alphas. Their powers are world changing in potential. I've met a few over my years. I met a child who held power over life and death. He was killed when he was very young. I knew a man who held power over plant life and could grow an entire forest in mere hours. He was killed as well. I knew someone who had power over the very earth itself, able to shape it to his will. He was killed too. Alphas, may be the most powerful but they are also the most feared. An intelligent Alpha keeps his or her potential hidden away, lest he be hunted to the ends of the Earth."

"I am a Beta meta-human." Discharge says. "I have pretty useful powers that I can control, but I rely on them to live, and in addition, I can't change the world with my powers. Jack here on the other hand is arguably an Alpha. He is potentially immortal, from what I can tell. And he's the only person I've known with powers like that. I've known fast healers, but nobody could cheat death until you."

I shrug. "Natural talent. At any rate, I think I'm more of an Epsilon, a Beta at best."

"This is too confusing." Senna says with a shake of her head. "So there are some meta-humans that can like… move mountains with their minds and some just are born like, purple?"

I nod. "Pretty much. And it's different for everyone. Both of my parents could have been Alphas who could move mountains or travel time, but I might be born... purple for lack of an example."

"That seems unfair." Draco comments.

"So does Type 1 Diabetes." I say. "Some things are just beyond your control. Discharge, I've been meaning to ask you about your parents."

"My father was a meta-human. My mother was human." Discharge says. "My father was called the Engine, he could run at locomotive speeds and almost never fatigued. He was also crazy strong."

"That's pretty cool." I say with a small laugh. "My mother was a meta and my father was normal. My mother had foresight, but only 14 seconds into the future."

"14 seconds can save your life." Discharge says with a shrug.

"Not if you die of influenza." I say frowning at him.

"I'm… Sorry." He says looking embarrassed.

"Happened 236 years ago." I say. "I'm over it."

"I still can't believe you're 239 years old." Senna says with a shake of her head. "_I'm _not even 239 yet…"

I shrug. "It's not a contest."

"It's really all we asari have got on you humans! Lifespan!" She exclaims. "I mean look at you people! Your skin tones range like across an entire spectrum, you're all so different from one another, you come in all shapes and sizes and you have hair that you can style to your whims! What do we have? These weird floppy things on our heads? Oh and now you have super powers!"

I choose to ignore her weird baseless moping. "Humans don't have super powers. Meta-humans do. There's a difference."

"You guys have to go public with this!" Draco says. "Imagine all the comic nerds who'll have wet dreams over this! I mean, you guys have fucking SUPER POWERS! Jack you're like the Wolverine without claws and facial hair and like 15 times as crazy and Discharge you're like Electro from the Amazing and Superior Spiderman serieses except he was a bad guy and you seem nice. Unlike that fucker next to you."

"Fuck off." I growl at him. "And we're not going public with all this. We're just two people who happen to have super human powers. And we're trying to lay low."

"Well, I am." Discharge says. "You on the other hand are running around at night fighting crime."

"Yeah! You're like Batman but with super powers and you kill people!" Draco says with a laugh. "That's almost better! Batman, meets the Wolverine, meets Daredevil, meets the Punisher!"

"Who are these people you keep referencing?" Discharge asks.

"Turok, you've been pretty quiet this whole time." I comment, looking at him.

He grunts. "Yeah. I've been drifting in and out but I got the picture. You guys can kill better than the average human."

"Got to say, I'm still not used to this whole alien thing." Discharge mumbles to me. "I mean, he looks like a huge… frog or something."

"Thank you!" I say with a laugh. "I thought the exact thing the first time I saw one."

Another meta-human is here with me… I wonder if there are any others that made it too?

**A message from the Author:**

**I apologize sincerely for the inconsistent updates. Finals had me all over the place, and now working full time is just as strenuous. I'll keep updating, but I'm only human and I'm forgetful. Thanks for reading and reviewing. You all have said kind things about the story so far. But the plot is unfolding now.**

**Once again, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	11. Chapter 11: For What You Believe In

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUSTICE**

**BOOK ONE**

**THE PROMETHEAN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 11**

**FOR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN**

**##########################################################**

**It's February 10****th****, 2174, late evening. It's been almost two weeks since I've met Discharge. I haven't met any more meta-humans since, but that's not any sort of priority for me. I've systematically been weeding out some of the significant criminal underground of the Citadel. Drug dens, labs and dealerships, off-the-books whorehouses, sex slave houses and brothels, weapons warehouses and black market dealers have all come into the sight of my guns. None have been spared. Needless to say, I've been quite busy. There's a special target I'm going after tonight. And on an unrelated note, I've gone out with Kim two more times since our first date and it's going pretty great… still haven't kissed her though.**

I walk over to Vaas. "How's it coming?"

"It's coming along." Vaas mumbles, hunched over a long table, a pair of dark goggles protecting his eyes. "Just slowly. I need more tools."

"I can go get them from your workshop if you want." I say.

"Too risky." Vaas says straightening. "Besides, most of them are probably in the evidence locker at C-Sec by now. I'll work with what I've got, but it couldn't hurt for you to go get me some new tools. I'll give you a list."

"'Jack, buy me this. Jack, buy me that. Jack, I want a new table to work at.'" I say with a sigh. "'But Vaas, I just bought new lights, toilets, sinks, some partition walls, a bunch of computers for Senna and a fabrication unit for you. Not to mention the gym equipment, the griddle and the fridge that I have to buy groceries for daily because Turok keeps eating everything.' 'Don't care, buy me my new table. And while you're at it, go get me more tools.'"

"Quit your belly aching and go take care of it, meta-human." Vaas growls at me. "If you want this damn thing done, I need those tools."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. Send the list to Discharge, I don't have time to do your grocery shopping."

"Fine. There isn't much more I have to do for this thing anyway though. Turn around I want to make sure it'll fit." Vaas says.

I do as he says and he starts fiddling with some of the armor plates on my back. I feel my body get really stiff in my armor for an extended moment as my armor's power source is taken out and is replaced. I feel my movement restored after a few seconds and he steps around me.

"Okay, let me take some readings." Vaas says scanning me with his omni-tool. "Alright… You're green across the board. The microfusion battery complex fit in perfectly. You can take that now I'd say. It's exponentially superior to the output of your former power sources. It's a bit bigger, and I miniaturized it as much as possible, but it'll work fine. You won't notice much of a difference but on the bright side your radiation shield won't need to draw from a secondary source anymore. You're running off one power source."

"Sweet." I say as Vaas replaces the plates on my back. "You know I haven't even used that radiation shield yet. Haven't needed it."

"That's probably a good thing." Vaas says.

"Probably." I say as Vaas finishes with my armor. "I'm going. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Happy hunting." Vaas says as I walk away.

"Jack." Turok says stopping me as I leave. "Can I ask you something?"

I shrug. "Sure. Make it quick though, I have places to be."

"Have you seen any of the guys since the tournament? You know, Mez and Mike or Shael?" Turok asks.

I shake my head. "I saw Mez when he showed me my apartment but that was about three weeks ago and I haven't seen any of the others, why?"

"I'm just curious to see if any of them are curious where I am or where you are." Turok says. "I mean, are they worried about me or anything?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I can find out soon and let you know, if you want."

He nods. "That'd be nice."

I nod at him. "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow Turok. You feeling better by the way?"

He nods. "Yeah, I'm good to go. Krogan heal pretty fast, Jack. Maybe not as fast as you but pretty fast all the same."

"Glad to hear it." I say. "See you later."

I leave the Warehouse and put my jacket on as I walk over to one of the chutes to get out of here. So, it turns out that the chutes have been running off of backup systems that operate off of run off power from the grid on the Wards. Now that we restored power to the Warehouse using the microfusion batteries, their primary systems kicked in and the rides are much more pleasant. The lifts actually go both ways now, not one way and you don't actually have to wait for them if you didn't take the same chute up or down. They're just ready to go all the time. The chutes all operate off of some sort of magnetic lift system that I don't understand. But they actually go much faster now, and they don't launch me out at either end.

I step into the lift and if gently picks up speed, reaching incredibly high velocity in just a few seconds.

I arrive at the end in just a few minutes, ducking out of the chute as it comes to a halt. I nod to the Keeper standing by the chute as it always does, typing into some computer without a screen on the wall. I walk down the alleyway, zipping my jacket up.

I head over to a coffee shop where I need to wait. Well… I don't _need _to wait there, but it's better than sitting out in the street. I enter the coffee house and buy a large cup of tea, because I'm not so much of a fan of coffee. I sweeten it to my liking with some honey before taking a seat in at a table by a window. I think my 'disguise' is less conspicuous than it used to be seeing as how there's so many pictures of me floating around. But today I'm wearing dark indigo jeans as opposed to my normal BDU pants. People don't notice what they don't want to notice. And the slightest difference in an otherwise constant variable will completely throw off their recollection.

I check the time and turn my attention to a TV for the time being. A news channel comes on, and it's an end of the week segment that they do titled the Weekly Word.

"_Good evening and happy Friday to all our viewers." _The reporter says with a smile. _"Welcome to the Weekly Word, I'm Susie Ortega, and this is the Word. As with the last few weeks, the thing everybody's talking about is the Citadel Vigilante people have taken to calling the Warden. The name Warden was coined by users on social media, where his fame has exploded over the last few weeks. Tags and posts about the Warden have been the highest trending topic on all the primary social media sites on the Citadel over the past few weeks and support for his crimes is actually on the rise. More and more people are supporting his actions against criminals here on the Citadel. One user cited sources on the crime rates on the Wards and crime has actually gone down 15% since the appearance of the Warden. And though his crimes have not yet caused any deaths of individuals without criminal history or who are not involved in crime in any way, many see some of his actions as questionable. Such as his sighting and alleged involvement in the robbery at Damascus Energy two weeks ago. However, support is still astoundingly high for the Warden. His image has even been adopted by numerous anti-crime and anti-Council protestors on the Citadel, who have taken to wearing silver chevrons on their shirts. Though the actions the Warden has taken against crime have garnered results, his methods are ethnically questionable. C-Sec investigators are still pursuing the Warden but have still not yet come close to catching him. Despite his apparent misguided form of vigilante justice, his actions do bring to light many as of yet unanswered questions. Such as what is going on with C-Sec? Are the rumors of corruption in the ranks of C-Sec true? What is the Council doing to quell crime here on the Citadel?"_

I frown at the screen, and finish my tea. I look out the window and check the time again. I wait. Just a few moments later, I spot my target for the evening.

I get up and throw my empty cup away and exit the coffee house. I start following my target.

His name is Carl Alter, and he's a very evil man. Not only is he a pedophile, but he's also a slaver, who kidnaps people and sells them into the sex trade, adults, teens and children alike. He primarily deals in xenophilia, selling aliens to high paying customers back on Earth or in the colonies. Where better to find the most diverse stock than in the most diverse place in the galaxy? He's somebody who has never been caught because he pays off C-Sec very well. But now he's caught my eye and because of this he's going to die. But he's going to be very special.

I continue to follow him and stay out of his sight until he comes to a cab terminal. I wait for him to open the cab door before I walk by and place a tracking device on his vehicle. I continue walking and hear him fly away. I continue to the next cab terminal and enter it but do not leave yet. I wait, sitting and watching his location moving across the map displayed on my omni-tool. I keep watching and it stops. That's when I go. I do not go to the same place his cab stopped at. I go to the next nearest one and start walking. He's at the docks. In the shipping warehouses.

I find the one he stopped his cab at and I stop a fair ways away. I see a krogan guard near the door, looking tied and I see cameras. I duck behind a garbage can and let my leg armor and helmet slip on. I take my jacket off and stuff it away in the pouch on my leg. Finally, I clip on my belt and my armor lights up.

I get to my feet and stride towards the guard. "Senna, shut off the security systems of Warehouse 234 on the Kithoi Ward."

"_I'll take care of it." _Senna responds. _"Go get this guy, Jack. This one deserves it."_

Looks like she's finally agreeing with my methods I guess. I draw my revolver and shoot out the knee of the krogan guard.

He shouts in pain and alarm and falls to the ground. I stop a few steps from him and point my revolver at him.

"Is Carl Alter inside?" I ask.

He just nods and I blow his brains out with two shots from my revolver. I walk into the Warehouse and look around. It's big and open and somewhat empty. I enter cautiously, gripping my Maxus tightly. It's dark in here. Where is he?

Suddenly there's a very bright light to my right and a loud mechanical noise. I turn to it and fire off a few shots on instinct before I am hit by something big like a car and it rams me into a wall. I gasp my breath catching. My feet dangle a few feet from the ground. I'm suspended by my gut, impaled by some kind of forklift-like vehicle that was rammed into me.

I cough out some blood into my helmet.

The inside of my helmet flashes with dull red light. _"Warning! Warning! Warning! Vital signs critical! Massive foreign object detected in the midsection region! Advised to remove it immediately!"_

Yeah no shit.

"Hey! I got him! Boss I got him!" Whoever was driving the vehicle says. "Yeah! I killed the Warden!"

"He ain't dead yet." Somebody with a raspy voice, sounding batarian says. "I'll take care of him."

"Hell no!" The driver exclaims. "I impaled him, I'll be the one to finish him off too!"

I see somebody move in front of the vehicle's headlight. A human with a big grin on his face.

"Hell yeah! I got you motherfucker!" The man says with a sneer and a laugh. "Good riddance motherfucker!"

Before he can point his gun at me I shoot him three times in the chest with my revolver, my other hand clutching the blade of the forklift impaling me. Even getting impaled on a forklift can't get me to drop my guns.

"Motherfucker." The batarian growls before shooting me a bunch of times with his own gun.

I grunt as the rounds him me, some piercing but none really doing anything. I shoot him in the face after he's finished shooting me.

I cough a bit and put my revolver away, gripping the blade of the forklift with both hands. I start to push, trying to free myself from this excruciating pain.

"Why won't you fucking die?!" I hear somebody shout before I get shot a bunch more times in the chest. "Die! You fucking fuck, die! Die! Die! Die!"

Once his pistol is expended he throws his gun at me. I slowly look up at him.

"That hurt." I mumble, before quick drawing and shooting him in the leg.

He cries out in pain and I shoot the forklift's parking break lever before pushing again. The lift slides away from the wall and I push myself off of the forklift.

"Ah! Fuck!" I pant, lying on the ground for a second as my wounds heal. I look down at my stomach and watch my organs fuse back together in my body while my skin heals over. Fuck that hurt. Getting impaled is very painful

I clear my throat and walk up to the guy whom I shot in the leg. And it's just my good fortune that it's the guy I'm after. Lovely.

I look down at him and can't help but smile. "You and I are going to have some fun."

He looks up at me, defiance in his eyes. He spits on my armor. I straighten and press my foot down on his wounded leg and he howls as blood sprays out between my boot and his pant leg out onto the floor.

I shove him aside and grab him by his hair and start dragging him over to the cargo containers. He struggles, grabbing at my wrist, trying to tear my fingers out of his hair but I don't budge.

I reach the containers and remove my jacket. I take a small can of aerosol that Vaas gave me for quick plate carrier repairs and seal up the holes in my stomach and back made by the forklift.

I put the can back in my jacket and put it aside. I also remove my shoulder holster and place that aside as well.

I squat and sit on my haunches and stare at this criminal, Carl Alter for a moment. He stares back at me, sweat beading his face. He looks pale. I look down at his leg and reach into a pouch on my belt for an application of medi-gel. I apply it to his wound, keeping him pressed up against the cargo container with my arm as I do. I make sure his bleeding has stopped before I straighten and step away from him.

"Senna." I say. "I have him here alive according to plan. Is everything ready?"

"_Yes, everything is prepared." _Senna responds. _"Are you sure that this is a good idea?"_

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Yes, I'm sure. Go ahead and get it started. There's more work to be done."

"_Okay." _Senna says, sounding somewhat reluctant. _"I hope you know what you're doing."_

"I do." I say before cutting the transmission.

I call Discharge next.

"_Warden." _Discharge says answering the call. _"Is it done?"_

"Mission is underway." I say. "I need the package brought to my location. I'm sending the address of where I am now. Be here soon."

"_I will." _Discharge says. _"Do you want to tell me what's going on though?" _

"You'll see for yourself." I say. "Get it done."

"_I will. I can be there in less than an hour with everything you wanted." _Discharge says. _"I'll see you soon."_

Good kid. Good heart. Too squeamish though.

I walk back over to Carl and sit next to him, opening my omni-tool. I ensure the voice changing function on my helmet is set to disguise my voice well before turning on the evening news.

"I had a friend of mine who's good with computers put together a little extranet site for me." I explain to him. "Also, I had her send out a little presentation to all the evening news stations on the Citadel and I had her pre-edit it so they can just put it straight on the air. A 'this just in' sort of thing, you know? Let's watch."

"_Breaking news story this evening. We just received an anonymous report from someone claiming to be associated with the Citadel Vigilante known as the Warden. The video recording included is quite staggering to report, but here it is for all to see, undoctored and unedited in its original format." _The news anchor says.

The screen switches to an image of me in full body armor standing under a light in the Warehouse. The lighting contrast makes it impossible to make out any details of the room, just me standing under the light.

"_Greetings and good evening. I am speaking now, with a message to all the citizens of the Citadel, and all the citizens of Citadel Space. You know me as the Warden." _I say in the video, my armor masking my voice into an eerie vibrato. _"I do not shy away from what I am. I am a killer. A killer of people who do wrong. People who kill, steal, maim, rape and take what doesn't belong to them from the innocent. I do not believe that these people deserve freedom or mercy. I am here to enact justice and to protect the freedom and the will of the innocent. I am here to be your voice in the darkness, to protect those of you who cannot protect yourselves from these monsters who lurk in the streets. I am here to give those monsters something to fear when they climb into their beds at night. I will not rest, until every single criminal on the Citadel is wiped away. And once I have eradicated the crime of the Citadel, I will ensure that it will never return. Criminals, killers, thieves, rapists, murderers and thugs, you are my targets and I will kill every last one of you. Once I'm done with them, C-Sec, I will cleanse the corruption from your ranks and I will bring peace to the galactic symbol for diplomacy, culture and grace. I will never quit. I am aware that some of you may find my methods a bit extreme. But the only sure fire way to stop a man from committing a crime is to ensure that he can't ever commit the crime. I can't humanely imprison all of these men and women myself, and your system of laws is flawed and able to be swayed by anybody with a little bit of money in their pockets. So I remove the middle man all together and in the past I have always acted as judge, jury, and executioner. But no, not tonight. Tonight, I reveal my motives and what drives me to the galaxy. Tonight, I will play the part of executioner, but not judge nor jury. In two hours, a broadcast will be sent from the extranet site: citadelwarden dot xnet It will explain what is happening tonight. And then another countdown will commence and a tally will begin. From there, the site will go live. In two hours, tune in to watch the next step in this quest for justice. I will be monitoring social media networks until then. I ensure all of you that this is not a trick, not a fluke or some kind of publicity stunt. This is as real as it gets."_

The image switches back to the anchor and a timer begin to counts down from two hours. _"The clock is ticking now. The broadcast is set to play in two hours, we here at Citadel News Now will continue to monitor social media as well as the site if you wish to watch from your television. This is not a joke people. The Warden has finally spoken up."_

"I thought it was a bit melodramatic." I say to Carl, closing my omni-tool. "But my associates thought it got the message across and I think people really like a bit of fantasy and fiction in their lives. Spices it up a bit. This will go very well, I think."

"You're insane." Carl Alter says to me.

"Me insane?" I ask with a laugh. "What about you? You fuck kids for fun and sell them once you're finished for money you sick son of a bitch."

"Fuck you! You don't know anything! I've never been tried, nothing!" Carl hisses at me.

"No you haven't." I say. "But that's because you're careful. And you aren't stupid. Congratulations to you. But I've been watching you, Carl. I've been two steps behind you for a while now, and you had no idea. You were more difficult to judge than my normal targets. You were never tried, nor even accused of anything so I had little to work off of. But I've seen everything, Carl. Every dirty deal, every dark secret that you harbor. And now, you're going to pay for them. All of them. I held myself back you know. Dozens of times, I could have walked right in and killed everyone, yourself included and saved those people you sold and beat and tortured and mutilated. But I waited. For the perfect moment. And now, here it is. You're going to die tonight, Carl Alter. And there's nothing that you can do about it."

Carl just stares at me silently, wide eyed, pale. I get to my feet and grab him by the wrist, removing his omni-tool, his earpiece and anything else he had on his person. I arrange them neatly nearby.

"It's just a matter of waiting is all." I say. "The moment is coming, but not for a little while. In the meantime, I'm going to do a couple of things. First, I'm going to tell you a little story while I wait for a delivery. Then I'm going to set the place up. Finally, I'm going to bring you pain. And then we wait a bit longer. And then you die."

Carl is just silent still.

"If you think that your disobedient silence will… anger me or something than you're dealing with the wrong sociopath. I'm here to kill you, not fulfill some sort of personal, sick and twisted pleasure or itch. No, I don't do this because I like doing it. I do enjoy it. I find the work quite satisfying. No, it's simply my calling. It's what I was put in God's Great Galaxy for. I'm here to kill people who do not deserve to live. People who have chosen to waste their short lives. I am here, simply, to cleanse society of filth, like yourself." I say, finding a large crate to sit on. "You've probably figured out that I'm not your typical person. Oh, I almost forgot."

I let my helmet uncover my head. "There we are, much better. It can get a tad bit stuffy in there sometimes. Yes, I'm not your typical human being. On one hand, it's very, very challenging to kill me, though some people have more luck than others. And furthermore, if you had managed to kill me with that little forklift truck there, I wouldn't have stayed dead for too long. I can't die, Carl. And if you're curious, yes there are others like me in the sense that they are special, but so far I'm the only person I've met who simply doesn't die. And I can tell that you knew this already, without me having to tell you because you have sat there like a retarded sow for the last ten minutes or so not uttering a peep, not moving an inch, not even making an attempt to kill me because you know that it'd be futile. I'm far stronger than you. I'm faster than you. And I'm smarter than you. But luck is important, so let us say you managed to get a lucky shot and stab a blade through my eye or something. Oh yes, that'd kill a normal person. But I'm a bit more durable than your average human. But anyways, let me tell you my story.

"Once, about 47 years ago I believe, I was a member of a community of approximately 2,000 people. Where I come from, that is a great many. I was the town's resident 'ass-kicker.' Yes that was an official title. I removed any impurities in the Mayor's perfect society, and kept unwanted people out by any means necessary. It was hard to gauge people coming in at a moment's notice. So I whittled down my little questionnaire to two simple questions:

"'Have you ever killed anybody?' and 'Why?'

"Always those two questions, no matter the answers to either. There were a few answers that I could accept. For reasons of righteous vengeance. For reasons of survival. And for moral matters such as the protection of one's family. Any other reasons are really unjustified though there were a few exceptions. One day, I was having a drink at the tavern when a man came in claiming his family had been murdered. I found that what he said was true, his entire family of 6 not including himself had been butchered in a very gruesome manner. A true to life blood bath. The murderer was there in the house as it so happens. He did not put up a fight and went with me peacefully. Normally, I would take an unwanted member of society outside and kill them and leave them for the dogs. But this was different. The murderer was a teenager, no older than that young lady you sold the other day. He actually had grown up in the safety of the walls. He told me that he was wrong in the head, that he had a need for this. The he _needed _to kill that family just like he needs to eat and to breathe. On some level, I knew that it wasn't his fault. But he needed to pay for his crimes. I took him to town square and called the entire town there. I told them all what had happened and had the father of the family tell them what had happened and I had the murderer tell them what happened and the whole time, I requested their silence. So at the end of it all, I stood before my townsfolk and told them:

'In all the time I have been here I have protected you from harm but today I have failed. But my failure is not my fault. It is not this boy's fault either and it is not this father's fault. It is all your fault. You who were blinded by your tall walls and your vigilant and brave security staff let yourselves become complacent and you let the dangers from within become invisible to you. There is darkness within us all and that darkness is greater in some and lesser in others. Today, I have failed. So has this boy, so has this father, and so have all of you. Today, 6 innocent people were killed. Butchered like vermin. It is no one's fault but yours. Yet it is all our burden to bear. To this day, I have served as judge, jury and executioner for the filth of this city but today I will be but the executioner. Today, you must decide who the guilty ones are and who deserves to die today. You, my townspeople will decide the fate of this 14 year old murderer who is a son and a brother. And to make this easier, I'm going to give you three choices. He can stay here with his family and if so he will be watched and confined for the remainder of his years. If he kills again, there will be no mercy. He can be exiled, alone, with nothing but the clothes on his back as per city doctrine for thieves never to return to the safety of our walls. Or I can do as I have always done with killers and leave his corpse to the dogs outside the city. It is your choice.'

"I gave the townspeople the choice that day. I did not know what the outcome would be. I was very curious. I could have easily just taken him outside the city and killed him and nobody, except maybe his mother and sister would have said a word. But I let them choose because they needed to choose. And at the end of the day, justice prevailed because it always does. Everyone knew, that this boy was compelled to kill people and if he lived he would just do it again. In all honesty, the blame could have been laid on the father for not protecting his family. The blame could have been placed on the boy but he was no less in control of himself than a rabid dog. And they very well could have blamed me for not seeing this coming. But they voted almost unanimously to have him treated as all killers were. I took that teenager outside of the city and shot him in the back of the head and left him where he lay. That is my story. The reason I'm telling you this, is because that's what is going to happen today. Today, I will reveal to the Citadel what you have done and I will let the Citadel decide what happens to you. I will let you say your piece. I am not an unreasonable person."

"What if the majority says I deserve to live? That I should be set free?" He asks, breaking his short lived silence.

I shrug. "I'm going to do what I did 47 years ago. I'm going to tell them that you can live and remain on the Citadel, that you can live and leave the Citadel never to return, and I'm going to tell them that I can kill you for your crimes. Regardless of what they choose, I am going to bring you pain and if they wish for you to leave with your life, you will leave here with scars. And you know that there will be those who will see you dead no matter where you are. You will die. Soon."

"But you'll let me go right?" He asks.

I laugh. "Sure. That's what they wanted right? Why would I go against what the people want? Isn't that who I am serving? Who I am doing this for after all?"

"R-right." He says, his voice a bit shaky.

I hear the door to the warehouse open noisily and I let my helmet close over my head again. "Maybe that's my delivery. Or maybe there's somebody here to save you."

I walk over to him and punch him across the jaw, knocking him unconscious. I walk towards the noise and I see a flash of blue light and then electricity arcing over a hand.

"Warden?" I hear Discharge ask. "Those eerie green eyes you?"

I nod. "Did you get what I asked you to get?"

He nods. "Yeah, but I'm a bit confused as to what I'm giving you these things for."

"Just hand them over." I say.

"Okay…" He says pulling up a cart with a two crates, some grocery bags and a few other objects shoved on it. One crate is open and medium sized the other is very large. "One standard chef's knife. I don't know why you need that, you have a fucking omni-blade after all. 500 feet of strong synthetic rope. 100 feet of heavy chain link. Plastic zip ties. A lighter. Again you can make fire with your omni-tool buddy, even I know that. A portable stove. Two sets of tableware and silverware. Fresh cut bone in rib eye steaks. Two whole potatoes. A 'nice' blanket. A microwave. A bottle of Duvont 2157 Merlot. Grapes. Strawberries. Blueberries. Butter. Spices. Three candy bars, unspecific type. Bottled water. Three liters of soda, cola, root beer and lemon lime. Disposable cups. Three foldable chairs. A foldable table. And finally, one true definition video recording device with tripod. And of course, I couldn't forget the weirdest one. Quote, 'I need shipment AJ-8823947Z VE GAM SOL 2274. Not any other box. That one. Got it? Get it today.' Here it is. I, like, quintuple checked to make sure it was the right one. Yup. Right one. I had to steal this you know. I literally ran up to it with the dolly and ran away with it, I looked like a fucking jackass."

I nod. "Thanks. Now leave. If you want to know what I'm up to. You will, I'm sure."

"What the fuck does that mean?" He asks. "What's here? What's in this crate and what's going on, Warden?"

"This is a warehouse." I say. "The crate has something very important in it, and you shouldn't feel bad for stealing it when you find out what's inside. And I am currently creating a stigma that you will definitely hear about. Now leave and don't come back."

Discharge looks reluctant but he does leave. I lock the door behind him before returning to the dolly and pushing it back to my target. Still here. Still unconscious. I zip tie him and leave him there for a moment as I retrieve his omni-tool. I use it to gain access to the warehouse's systems, transferring access to my own modded omni-tool. I also transfer all his data files to my servers back home before accessing his bank accounts, legal and otherwise. I empty his bank accounts into my encrypted accounts that Senna set up for me before I destroy his omni-tool now that I am done with it. It may just serve as a tracking device anyways. I use my omni-tool to fiddle with the lights a bit. I manage to illuminate our immediate area which will be my staging spot, and a larger area where I'll set up my other things. The lighting is quite grim and it serves as a sort of disturbing spotlight of a kind. I unfold a chair and tie my already bound target to the chair.

Only now does it occur to me that I should have had Discharge buy some socks that I can use as a gag or something. Oh well. Sorry pal.

I remove his shoes and gag him with one of his socks, tying it place with some of my rope.

Next, I walk over to dolly and bring it over to my other little area. I set up the table, the last two chairs and I set the table with all the food I have. Prepare the portable stove and light it up, putting the large frying pan that comes with it on top and setting that on top of the now empty medium sized crate I have. Finally, the large crate, the one I asked Discharge specifically to go get.

This wouldn't be a proper people's trial without a third perspective. I have to give my judges and my jury three perspectives: The lawman's (Me), the criminal's (Mr. Carl Alter), and the victim's.

I key in a code that I got from Alter's omni-tool into the crate and open it. The special crate is designed to be environmentally capable. It's meant to hold things like trees, keep them alive. This one had a person in it.

The person comes tumbling out of her former cage. She's young. Not as young as a few of Alter's slaves but she's still very young. 12 or 13 is probably her age. She's looks so scared.

I step away from her, letting her get her bearing on her own. She sees me and freezes, like an animal caught eating a meal. She stares at me with big, bloodshot eyes, big dark circles around them. She's a bit thin, a bit pale. I hope she isn't sick.

I stand there, looking at her. She looks back at me.

I kneel in front of her.

"I know who you are." She says, her voice raspy.

I nod. "Good. Then you know that I won't hurt you."

"You're a killer." She says.

"I kill bad people." I say.

She nods, slowly, her eyes never moving from me. "Yes. Is that's what's happening?"

I nod towards Alter. She looks at him.

"That's the man who…" She whimpers. "Why isn't he dead yet?"

"Don't worry." I say. "He will be."

I remove my helmet.

She looks at me, right in the eyes. "You aren't how I pictured you."

"How is that?" I ask, smiling, trying to look friendly.

"In my head, you were a man with a lion's head." She says, still looking afraid, but not of me.

I straighten and offer her my hand. "I hope I didn't disappoint."

She takes my hand with both of hers and I help her to her feet, supporting her small thin, weak frame. I turn her and guide her towards the table with food. Her eyes widen and she struggles weakly to move to the food. I don't know how long it's been since she's eaten. It must have been days. I continue to help her until she is seated before I turn the fruit towards her and open them for her and she starts devouring the fruit.

I drop some butter in the frying pan and begin to cook the steaks, cutting a long slit in the potatoes before putting butter and bit of steak fat in them before putting them in the microwave. Preferably I would bake them in an oven, but that's out of the question at this point. I take a candy bar, something with chocolate and offer it to the girl. She takes it, tears into it and eats half of it in one bite.

"Slow down." I say. "You'll get sick if you eat too fast. Drink some water."

I hand her a bottle of water and ease her food out of her hands.

"I'm guessing that you haven't eaten in a few days. I can understand the need, but if you eat too much, too fast in a weak state like this you'll just vomit it back up." I say, watching the steaks. "Trust me. Besides, you need to save room for steak."

She looks at the steaks, eyes and mouth watering. "Why are you doing this?"

"If you're curious, I'm not doing this to help you." I say shrugging to her. "If I was doing this to help you, I'd try to help all those people he was selling and shipping across the galaxy but alas, I am only one man and I simply couldn't do that. A shame, but I'm doing this because justice must be done, and this is a sort of special case. I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to act on Alter's judgement and I'm doing this, because you deserve a shred of kindness now that your ordeal is done with. You are in absolutely no danger whatsoever either. But I am doing this because I need your help."

"I don't want to kill him." She says. "I hate him. I want him to die. But I don't want to kill him."

"You're not going to." I say. "I mean, you could and I wouldn't have to kill you because that would be a justified cause but, what I'm saying is you don't have to and I'm not making you. What I'm asking you to do however is tell your story in front of the camera on the live broadcast in 2 hours. When the broadcast happens, I'll tell my story to the Citadel and present them the evidence I have against Carl Alter. Then, he'll talk. And finally you'll tell your story to the Citadel. Then the people will decide what happens to Carl Alter. Whether he lives or dies."

"He's a monster, he has to die." She says, quietly.

I shrug. "Everyone has demons. Some have lots, some have little. Everyone has them. Some people acknowledge their demons. Some choose to ignore them. Some let them eat away at them from the inside. Some cage them effectively. And some set aside time to feed their demons. Like Carl. Carl acknowledges his demons and knows that they'll boil away at him and make him explode if he keeps them away. So he takes time to feed his demons so that he can live a good life on the side. He has a wife and a good family. He donates money to disease research and colony funding. The other day I watched him buy dinner for a homeless turian. Is he a good guy? No. Is he a bad guy? No. He's just compelled to do bad things by his demons and that's beyond his control. Could his demons want something a little less macabre, sinister and taboo? Yes. But again, not his fault. What he's really guilty of here is the slavery. It was bad enough that he wants to fuck kids, but then he goes and starts selling them. Everyone has demons, he just chooses to keep them from growing by accepting them, and on some level, enjoying them."

I turn the steak over and look at the girl. She's staring off into space. I notice her shivering as she sips at the water.

I retrieve the blanket and drape it over her. "Better?"

She nods.

"Good." I say with a smile, returning to our food.

"What's your name?" She asks looking at me.

I look at her before looking back at my steak. "Jack. And I feel rude for not asking yours right off the bat."

"Angeline Jade Rose." She says, staring at her lap.

"Where are you from Angeline?" I ask.

"Omega." She responds.

"Where is that?" I ask making sure the steaks are done.

"It's in the Terminus Systems." She says. "I grew up in an orphanage on Omega, just as humans were arriving. They'd been there less than a year at best at the time… It wasn't pretty. Humans move fast. We involve ourselves in everything as quickly as we can. Politics, economy, trade, military treaties… crime. Humans arrived on Omega and tied themselves into the crime there with their new drugs."

"Is it worse there?" I ask. "The crime?"

"A million times worse. The whole place is a cesspool. It's the armpit of the galaxy." Angeline says with a scowl. "But it's home."

"I see." I say thinking about how that might be a place to visit someday. "An orphanage?"

Angeline nods. "I left the orphanage when I was young. The kids were cruel and it was a hell there. They called me Angel there. The Little Saint. I hate them all."

"You're very smart. But you're bitter." I say, glancing at her.

"I have a right to be." She replies.

I nod and shrug. "What happened next?"

"I begged. Got by however I could. I got raped and brought here, raped some more and then I was sold." She looks at me. "That's the story so far."

I look at her and put her steak on her plate and mine on my own. "I'm sorry to hear that."

She gives me a look before beginning to eat her steak. "This is good."

"Thanks." I say with a smile. "I've been trying to refine my culinary skills. Someday, I'd like to own a restaurant. Food is just a marvelous thing."

"It's a privilege is what it is." Angeline says devouring her steak. "It's not a right.

I shrug. "It's a necessity. But it only becomes a necessity when you need it. Otherwise it's an indulgence."

Angeline nods slowly and eats her food.

We're silent for a while, both of us eating quietly.

"You said earlier that you're not doing this to help me… What happened to everyone else?" Angeline asks.

I sigh. "Well, whatever happens to people who are under his care."

"Why me?" Angeline asks.

I shrug. "I like your spirit."

She frowns and is quiet for a while. "If you're not doing this to help people, what's the point?"

"Think of it this way, if I ran around trying to help every single person that needed my help, dozens of people would die and I would carry most of the responsibility, in addition to the disappointment of not having saved someone. I'm a very special person but I can't be everywhere at once and I can't stop every single murder and theft that happens. But if I get rid of all the murderers and thieves, then there won't be anymore crime in the future. Not only is it plausible, but it has a definite end to it. As opposed to the crime fighting thing. No, that's just silly. I'd be doing that for decades and make no progress whatsoever." I say with a small laugh.

"I don't know if I want to tell everyone what happened." Angeline says after a long silence. "But if I do… What's going to happen then?"

"I'll take you wherever you want to go. I'll give you enough money to get you going, and I'll leave." I say.

She looks somewhat hurt by this. "Why can't I just come with you? I can help you."

"Listen." I say putting my silverware down. "I'm sorry if that disappoints you, but I have work to do here and I can't have another kid getting in my way. I've taken in more than a few people already but they're useful to me. You're a liability. This isn't a charity, it's not a humanitarian mission. You got lucky. Very lucky. I watched them throw you into your crate and a dozen more into other crates and I picked you. I'll help you get where you want to go and I'll give you some money, but our involvement with each other ends there. You need to find your own way. That's just how life is."

"Did you watch them?" She asks.

"What?" I ask with a frown of confusion.

She looks up at me, darkness in her eyes. "How long did you wait before you acted this time? I thought you killed criminals the second you saw them. But you waited this time, didn't you? You said you waited for a perfect moment. But when that didn't come did you just watch him rape me and all those other people with his friends and then sell us to people just as bad as him? Did you watch him beat us senseless and just laugh and get hard ons when he did? You didn't do anything did you? You're just as bad as he is."

I feel my muscles twitch and I get very, very angry. "I'm nothing like him! I end bad people like him! You ungrateful little shit! I _saved _you, I fed you when you were hungry and this is how you thank me? How dare you! I don't save people, Angeline! I kill people; bad people! I could give two shits what happens to you, or anybody else! As long as monsters like him die, then my work is done! Do you know how lucky you are? That you fell into the plan at all? That you were worth enough handfuls of credits to matter enough that I needed you to be involved in his judgment! I don't save people! You could be halfway across the galaxy, starving and freezing into madness, on your way to your new batarian master to be used like a fucking condom and tossed away like trash! I don't save people and I picked you and I saved you and I show you kindness, I cook for you, I feed you, I OFFER you a place in righteous vengeance and justice and THIS IS HOW YOU THANK ME?!"

I shout in anger, like a bark and I kick a crate.

"I'm going to do the broadcast." Angeline says after a little while and I turn to look at her. "But after that, I'm going to leave and you're not going to follow me or anything. I don't need your help anymore."

"Please!" I say with a sarcastic laugh. "If it weren't for me, you'd be dead or worse! You can't help yourself. You're nothing!"

"I'm not nothing." She snaps at me. "I matter."

"No you don't!" I snap right back. "You're _nothing_! You're nothing! Do you hear me? You do not matter! Nobody does! Do you think one person could ever possibly be significant enough to be remembered through time? Could a single human ever make a difference on the galactic scale? No human could do that! Nobody matters! Nobody except for me! You know why? Because I _can_ be remembered through time because time is meaningless to me! I can outlive every living being in the galaxy. I could single handedly eradicate every single living organism in the galaxy and there's nothing anybody could possibly do to stop me! What is one star to a galaxy? One galaxy to the cosmos? Nobody matters! Nobody but me! And do you know how fucking awful that is? How could you people possibly have any worries? Any fucking troubles? Any fucking stress?! In 80 years when your pathetic excuse of a body burns out on you, you'll die, be remembered for a handful of years and then you'll fade away into history and it'll be like you never existed at all! But I'll still be here! I'll still be here! I'll always be here! And nobody matters but me! Do you know how fucking terribly awful that is?! Do you know the pressure I'm under? It's like I'm carrying everything that ever was on my shoulders! And I'm cursed to carry it forever! Do you know how awful it is that I _have _to do this?! Why couldn't I choose?! Why wasn't I able to have a choice?! Why do I have to be cursed with this?! Why do I have to live forever?! Why do I have to endure every second of the agonizing, excruciating _pain _that is life?! Why can't I just die? Why can't I just fade away like everything else…? It's so scary… In a trillion years, will I still be here? Will I be floating out in darkness… watching the last star burn out… only to be forced to watch it fade and exist forever in an endless loop of death and resurrection? Drifting through shadows…"

I let out a slow breath and lean against a wall, shaking my head.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Angeline asks breaking a very long silence.

I sigh loudly out of my nose and grab the kitchen knife. I clean it off and slice open my throat, spilling blood but only for a second as my wound closes almost as quickly as it was opened.

"Oh shit." Angeline says with a gasp.

"Would you stop cursing?" I ask with a frown. "It's off putting. Want to see it again?"

I do it again and again and again and again.

Angeline just watches with wide eyes.

I sigh. "Anyway, it's time for the first broadcast…"

I walk over to the camera and ensure it's positioned properly and connect it to my terminal. I get the whole thing ready and even bring up the website to watch myself live to ensure I do a good job before turning on the record button. I test the camera, speaking into it, and increasing the audio sensitivity levels so that it can pick up me talking from where I'll be standing a few feet away. I stand where I should stand and test the audio. Perfect.

"Senna, is it good to go?" I ask into my comm as my helmet closes around my head again.

"_Yeah, we're ready. The site is due to open in 3 minutes. Jack, there are almost 29 million views already! That's 10 million more than the Citadel has to begin with! You're reaching more people than here, Jack." _Senna responds. _"And I've been viewing trending topics on social media sites and it's all about you and the extranet site. This is going to change a lot of opinions. Are you sure you want to do this?"_

I look at Angeline and then at Mr. Alter. And there's actually a moment where I think about this. Normally, there wouldn't. I would go through with this without a thought. It's what I have to do… But I could just not do the broadcast… I could just kill alter and let Angeline go and go home and go to sleep… That would be nice. Do I have a choice? Do I really need to do this? Who says that I have to matter? Who says that I can't just… disappear forever? Can I really just let all that I've ever been go in this moment? Finish this without the broadcast and walk away? Everything had its method, but why does it have to have a method? Why can't something just happen? Why do I have to have plans? Why do I have to do this?

For justice.

I blink.

"Senna, we're doing it." I say, shutting my comm off.

"_Okay, we're almost ready. Make sure everything is ready to go." _She says.

I nod. "Angeline, could you do me a favor and grab a bottle of water and one of those candy bars please?"

She nods hesitantly and retrieves the things I asked for. She brings them to me and looks at the camera, closing her body like a door, wrapping her arms around her chest and looking away and down so that her hair falls around her face and putting her thin knees together.

"Angeline." I say.

She looks up at me, big brown eyes a little watery.

"Just stand over there, and come into the light when I ask you to." I say. "Showing your face will make C-Sec want to find you. If you want, after all this, you can tell them that I forced you to stay here, or that you were afraid that I'd get angry and kill you if you tried to run so you waited and cooperated so that I'd set you free. I don't want you to get tagged as an accomplice to murder or anything."

She nods slowly and shuffles away into the shadows.

I nod at her and look at the camera I look down at Carl Alter who is seated, tied and gagged in his chair, eyes a bit groggy. He's awake though.

I undo his gag and open the bottle of water for him. I help him take a drink and help him take a bit of the candy bar. I place the bottle on the floor next to him and put the half opened candy bar in his lap.

"_Jack. Going live in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…" _Senna says. _"Viewership skyrocketed. The galaxy's watching, Jack. Good luck."_

I stare at the camera in silence for a moment the whole room is quiet. I glance at the terminal and grin under my helmet at the sight of a my groggy prisoner, dry blood on his pant leg and on his face and then me, an imposing black armored man standing under sterile white light. Darkness is the backdrop. I can almost hear their murmurs and the gasps of shock people have when they see me standing there. I can feel their eyes.

I place my hand on Alter's shoulder and he mumbles something and fidgets a bit.

"Good evening." I say. "This broadcast is live. I have been keeping an eye on the extranet and I have to say that I am pleased. Tonight is a very important night. You know who I am. You call me the Warden. I have taken on the task of eradicating the injustice, the crime and all of the terrible people, the monsters, who stalk the streets after dark from the Citadel. I cannot do this alone. I cannot do this without help. I will bear the burden, but I need a hand to help me bear the weight every now and again. Tonight is a night like that. This man's name is Carl Alter. Over the past few weeks, I have followed him, investigated him and gathered evidence against him. He is a father and a husband. He reads to his children every night before they go to sleep and he prepares their meals, morning, noon and night every day because his job isn't until after hours. His wife, whom he kisses every morning on her way to work, whom he has never touched in anger, believes Mr. Alter to be a night watchman at a corporation that pays its workers very high salaries due to sensitive materials and threat against life. This is not true. I have evidence that will be released publically to the website that Carl Alter is not only a serial pedophile and a kidnapper, but he also runs one of the more prolific sex trafficking networks on the Citadel. Now, I know that it'd be easy for me to leave it there and justify that he is a pedophilic sex slave dealer who maintains a happy father and husband persona as a cover. This is not all true. I obtained some diary entries of his and I'll take a quotation from here:

'Today I sold 3 more. Ages 19, 14 and 7. My son is going to be 7 this January. This sale brought in enough bank that I can actually buy him something really nice this year as well as pay all the bills with plenty left over… But I can't use this money on _my _boy. It's blood money, dirty money. No… I can't do that. I wish that I wasn't this way, that I didn't feel like I needed this, that I could just live a normal life like the one I have at home. But I have to do this. And I might as well make some money while I'm doing these things…'

"It's hard to say he's doing the wrong thing, really. Some people have compulsions that they can't help. Some people need to binge eat, or sleep a lot, or have sex every day multiple times a day. And some people have to kidnap, rape and sell children. And here's what's going to happen tonight. Tonight, you will all decide what must be done with Carl Alter. Does he deserve to die for the evils he's done? Will he be exiled from the Citadel forever? Or should he go free? Once again, social media will be monitored. It wouldn't be fair for me to do this without letting Mr. Alter say his piece. So, Mr. Alter, talk. This may be your last opportunity to do so."

I shake Alter a bit, and he looks up at me before looking at the camera. "My name is Carl Alter. I am a bad person. I've hurt many people because of what I am. I have done bad things, but I am not an evil man. I don't do this because I enjoy it, I do this because I can't help it… I-I don't want to die. I just want to go home and see my family, my wife… Sweetie… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I never told you and this is how you had to find out. I'm so, so, so sorry. That's… That's all I have to say…"

I let that sit for a second. "And finally, one more person must say some words. Come here Angeline."

Angeline steps out from the shadows and walks around Alter to stand next to me. She was supposed to stand on his side, but I suppose that this is ok.

"Angeline, introduce yourself and tell them what's happened." I say.

"My name is Angeline Jade Rose." Angeline says. "I am an orphan who was raised on Omega station in the Terminus Systems. I ran away and lived on the streets for most of my life. I was kidnapped by men working for Carl Alter and they brought me to the Citadel. I was raped by him and by some of his men before they found a buyer for me and I was placed in an environmentally regulated shipping crate and put into the shipping lanes. This man got me out and brought me here. That's all."

"And what do you think should happen to Carl Alter?" I ask, looking at her.

"I… I don't know…" Angeline says, rubbing her hands together. "I don't know… I hate him."

"Ok, you're ok." I say. "You can go."

She nods and walks away.

"In two more hours, Alter's fate will be broadcast once again. I encourage all of you watching to take to social media. In addition, all the evidence that I have compiled, including a detailed list of all the people Alter has sold over the last few years will be put onto the extranet site, as well as a list of all the C-Sec officers that Alter has bribed to keep his business going. Have a nice evening." I say.

"_You're clear." _Senna says. _"Ratings peaked at 87 million. That's a record by the way. The highest trending topic on all social media sites right now is #thewarden. I'll keep you updated. For the record, I think this is a crazy idea. But he deserves to die."_

"Noted." I say.

I gag Alter again and walk over to Angeline. "You did a good job."

"Am I done?" She asks.

"Yes, but I can't let you leave until this is all over." I say. "If C-Sec gets a hold of you, you might tell them where I am. It's not that I don't trust you. I just don't trust anybody."

She nods slowly. "Ok."

I straighten myself standing quite tall. "Good. Now, I'm going to give Alter some pain. You may not want to watch."

I walk over to Alter and he starts to struggle in his seat. I remove his gag and activate my omni-blade and cut his binds and he tries to run but I trip him immediately after he stands. I grab him by the hair and start dragging him over to a conex box. He struggles the whole way, shouting in pain and fear.

I reach the conex box and slam his head into it, stunning him. I walk over to my cart and take the chains and rope. I bind him up and push him against the conex box, binding him standing against it.

I rip open his shirt and tear it off of him. I put it aside and activate my omni-blade and press the tip of my blade into his chest just slightly.

He screams in pain.

I begin to carve, feeling the blade bump over his ribs. I carve the word PEDOPHILE into his chest, straight across his upper chest below his clavicle. Underneath it, I slowly carve the word RAPIST into his chest. He passes out from the pain when I finish that word. I knee him in the crotch and he bolts awake and cries out in pain, his knees trying to touch.

I carve the next crime into his chest, on top of his diaphragm. When I've finished carving KIDNAPPER, he passes out again. I grab his face and start shaking his head.

"Wake up." I say. "Wake up. We're not done yet."

"Please…" He whimpers. "Please, I'm done. Please just kill me. Please I want this to be over."

"We're not done yet." I say again.

"Please!" He whimpers, his voice straining through powerful sobs. "Please no more! I don't want this!"

"I'm not done yet." I growl. "Hold still, this next one I have to do on your stomach, I don't want to disembowel you. Weird how this is a role reversal isn't it? I'm saying what you would say to your victims and you're saying what they would to you!"

"Please no!" He screams as I press the tip of my omni-blade into the upper part of his abdomen. "Aaaahahaaaargh!"

I carefully and slowly cut the word SLAVER into his chest before moving right onto the next and final crime. LIAR, written under his belly button.

I use my omni-blade to make two vertical cuts over his eyes, and make shallow cuts into the backs of his knees, enough to compromise the integrity of his tendons before deactivating my omni-blade and stepping away from him. He shudders in pain, breathing heavily, his body shaken by sobs. I untie him and drop him to the ground, coiling up my rope and chains.

I climb the conex box and use the rope to bring the chain up to the rafters. I take the chain and tie a rudimentary slip knot into the end of it, to the best of my ability because it is chain and I let it hang.

When I hang people, I like to use chain sometimes. It leaves very distinctive marks in the neck. And there's less whip like rope so their neck doesn't really break straight away.

I hop off the conex box and retrieve Alter, who is trying to drag himself away. I kick him in the rips, feeling something crack and flip him over. I press my foot down on his wounded chest and he gasps in pain. I grab his foot and drag him up to the conex box. I lift him up onto my shoulders and with a bit of exertion, I hurl him up onto the conex box. I walk back and grab two chairs and toss those both up there as well.

I climb back up and set both of the chairs up one right on the edge of the conex box facing away from the edge and one facing that chair. I pick up Alter and seat him in his chair at the edge of the conex box and I reach out for the chain.

I grab his face and put the chain noose over his head. He struggles a bit but I'm stronger than he is. I tighten the noose around his neck and zip tie it in place so that he can't loosen it.

The weight of the chain pulls back on him somewhat and almost makes him lean back. The slightest weight back and he's dead. He gasps and sobs in both pain and fear.

"Don't move." I say. "You'll die if you move."

"Please…" He says whimpering. "Please…"

I shush him and pat him on the shoulder. "It's almost over. Another 30 minutes and you'll know whether you'll live or you'll die. Even if you live, you'll have these scars for the rest of your life."

He sobs quietly and I hop off the conex box. I walk over to my table to gather some things into a grocery bag. I get some water, some soda, two glasses and two disposable cups and my bottle of wine. I look at Angeline who just sits at the table nibbling at some fruit.

"I apologize for my outburst earlier." I say as I gather my things. "I usually don't lose my temper like that."

"You said I didn't matter." She mumbles.

"I meant it." I say and shrug as I look at her. "Sorry, but it's true. Nobody does except for me. It's the harsh truth. I'm apologizing for getting angry with you, not about what I said."

"You're mean." She comments.

I shrug again. "I'm honest. Sometimes the truth is harsh. But if nobody speaks the truth then nothing will get better."

"I guess." She says. "But who are you to say that nobody matters? There are people who live through history because of their actions. Sun Tzu, Attila the Hun, Vlad the Impaler, Confucius, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, Adolf Hitler, Franklin D. Roosevelt. People don't just fade away with time, sometimes their actions immortalize them."

"I'm not talking on a societal scale." I say. "Think bigger. Think galactic. What if there was something that could just kill everything smart enough to think for itself in the entire galaxy. Every sapient being in existence. They might as well have never existed at all. But the galaxy would live on and new life would be created. History only exists when there are people around who can remember it."

"That'll never happen though." Angeline says. "There will always be somebody who remembers. And even if we all did disappear and new life came to replace us, there would be things that we left behind that would claim that we still existed. And as long as there are people to remember history, there are people who want to discover it too. We existed, isn't that enough?"

I shrug. "Depends on how you look at it. Do _I _think so? No. But you do and that's swell. For an uneducated orphan, you have really profound thoughts."

"I like to read." She says.

"That's good." I say. "I know that this must have been a very traumatic experience for you, but you can't let go of who you used to be. Who you are and who you used to be are two different things, but you're only who you are because of what you used to be. Do you know what I mean?"

"You're saying that just because my virginity was forcefully taken from me that I shouldn't stop reading books?" She asks.

"Well if you want to be blunter than the Great fucking Wall of China then I guess." I say rolling my eyes. "Anyways, help yourself to everything, I don't want it to go to waste."

"Whatever." She mumbles.

I walk away with my grocery bag of things. I leap up to the conex box and pull myself up one handed with my bag of things in my other hand. I sit across from Alter and take out a bottle of water and pour it over his bloody chest.

He winces and gasps in pain.

I finish cleaning him off a bit and pour him some wine. I offer it to him and he just takes the glass. I put my foot on his chair so that he won't fall and nod him on as I pour myself some wine.

I drink it slowly and he does as well.

"Why are you doing this?" He asks, finishing his wine.

"Because I have to." I say, looking at my wine. "If I don't then who will. Think about how many people you hurt. And you were careful and bribed a lot of people. You probably wouldn't have ever been caught, or not for a while. I have to do this. Sorry that you were just unlucky enough to catch my eye. But I would have gotten you eventually."

"Why couldn't you just have killed me like all those other people you've killed? Why did you have to turn me into a spectacle?" He asks.

"Not a spectacle." I say looking at him. "You're going to become a symbol and a martyr. You're going to represent something."

"What?" He asks.

"Everything that's wrong with the galaxy." I say.

I check the time on my omni-tool and hop off of the conex box. I walk over to the camera and move it to face the conex box and bring the crate with the terminal on it with me. I prep the camera and make sure that everything fits in the scene.

Satisfied I leap up onto the conex box once more and turn Alter around. I push his chair forward until the front legs of it slip off the edge but I catch him by the back of his chair and keep him level. All I have to do is let go and he's dead.

He whimpers and cries. "Please! Just stop this!"

"Senna, we're all ready?" I ask.

"_Yes." _She says. _"But there's a problem." _

"What's the problem?" I ask, suddenly a little worried. "Are they voting for life?"

"_That's the thing." _Senna says. _"The vote calls for death. More than 90% of viewers vote death. But the people who are voting for life are getting attacked. The Citadel is in chaos right now. There's rioting! Those protestors wearing your colors, they're leading the riots. C-Sec is completely unable to handle this. According to my feeds, every C-Sec officer on the Citadel is on duty tonight and they can't handle all the riots. What have you done?"_

I laugh. "Riots? Fantastic! Senna, it's time for the big hurrah! Can you hack into the public broadcast system?"

"_You want me to broadcast it to everyone?" _Senna asks with bewilderment.

"With three minutes left? I want you to broadcast to everyone now. Bring up the site for everyone to see and put the address of my current position on as well." I say with a smile.

"_What?! Are you crazy?!" _Senna exclaims. _"You have no idea what's going to happen!"_

"I do." I say. "And I cannot wait."


	12. Chapter 12: Searching For the Warden

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUDGEMENT**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 12**

**SEARCHING FOR THE WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**It's the 10****th**** of February, 2174 late in the evening. Detective Ar Chellick is following some cold leads that he believes may lead to the Warden. But the trail is just as cold as his leads. He doesn't think that the Warden can ever be caught**

* * *

"What?" Jordan asks, crossing her arms.

"You heard me." Chellick grumbles. "I don't think he can be caught. I don't fucking get it. There are no connections. He leaves loads of evidence but they don't connect to anything. We found a fucking human eyeball at a one of the scenes. Yet, there's no DNA match."

"There's no DNA at all, remember?" Jordan asks. "The eye didn't work with the DNA computers. The geeks at the labs said that their analysis concludes that it isn't human at all. But anatomically it is human, the DNA just isn't. It isn't anything. The DNA doesn't match any known genome properly. They say the only way that happens if it was grown in a lab with a clean genetic template but that's really, really, really illegal, not to mention practically impossible. They also told me that if it _did _have a clean genetic template, it wouldn't look like an eye, it would be closer to just a blob of stem cells. Like… they're totally stumped here Chellick."

"Which opens up about two million more doors that don't make any sense. Why would the Warden be growing people? Where is he getting the tech for that? Maybe he's not growing them, maybe he gets them from someone, but what the fuck is that needed for? Fuck all, this is the shittiest case I've ever had." Chellick says dropping his head into his hands. "I'm not one to give up, but I'm starting to think that we should just let him kill all the criminals."

"Don't talk like that Chellick. This guy is breaking the law, we have to catch him." Jordan says.

"Yeah… right." Chellick says, getting to his feet. "I'm headed home, partner."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow morning, Chellick." She says. "Get some rest, alright?"

"I'll try." He mumbles.

Chellick leaves the precinct, putting his jacket on as he leaves. The air is noticeably cold. Chellick walks slowly down the street towards his apartment building. Cabs are too expensive and he could use the exercise and the time to himself.

Chellick is checking mail on his omni-tool when he passes by a café. He looks inside and sees that it is packed.

He frowns. Normally, there aren't many people on the streets at this hour. There areusually some, but not many… But come to think of it, Chellick hasn't seen another soul since he left the precinct.

Chellick walks into the café and joins the crowd.

He nudges another turian. "Hey, what's going on?"

"News report says that the Warden is making a broadcast." The turian says, pointing at the TV.

"What?" Chellick says in shock. "Now?"

The turian nods. "Right now."

Chellick stands on a chair and looks at the large television displaying a news reporter and an offset image of the Warden staring into a camera as he holds a batarian off the ground by his neck.

"… _whole Citadel abuzz with news of the Warden's apparent ultimatum and call of duty to the citizens of the Citadel. News of the Warden's public reveal has reached beyond the Citadel and into Citadel Space where the topic of the Warden is trending over all social media networks. For those of you just tuning in, the Citadel Vigilante more commonly known as the Warden has publically revealed himself, issuing a broadcast to all Citadel news networks. Once again, here is his, frankly, terrifying broadcast."_

The TV switches to a scene showing the Warden, in his easily recognizable black armor with green indicator lights as well as eerie green eyes and his increasingly symbolic downward aiming silver chevron. The Warden appears to be in a warehouse, hanger or factory, though he could be anywhere based on what Chellick can see. He's standing under dull sterile white light on a flat, worn floor.

"_Greetings and good evening."_ The Warden says in the video and it occurs to Chellick that he's never heard the Warden's strange deep vibrato and clearly altered voice before._ "I am speaking now, with a message to all the citizens of the Citadel, and all the citizens of Citadel Space. You know me as the Warden._ _I do not shy away from what I am. I am a killer. A killer of people who do wrong. People who kill, steal, maim, rape and take what doesn't belong to them from the innocent. I do not believe that these people deserve freedom or mercy. I am here to enact justice and to protect the freedom and the will of the innocent. I am here to be your voice in the darkness, to protect those of you who cannot protect yourselves from these monsters who lurk in the streets. I am here to give those monsters something to fear when they climb into their beds at night. I will not rest, until every single criminal on the Citadel is wiped away. And once I have eradicated the crime of the Citadel, I will ensure that it will never return. Criminals, killers, thieves, rapists, murderers and thugs, you are my targets and I will kill every last one of you. Once I'm done with them, C-Sec, I will cleanse the corruption from your core and I will bring peace to the galactic symbol for diplomacy, culture and grace. I will never quit. I am aware that some of you may find my methods a bit extreme. But the only sure fire way to stop a man from committing a crime is to ensure that he can't ever commit the crime. I can't rightly imprison all of these men and women myself, and your system of laws is flawed and able to be swayed by anybody with a little bit of money in their pockets. So I remove the middle man all together and in the past I have always acted as judge, jury, and executioner. But no longer. Tonight, I reveal my motives and what drives me to the galaxy. Tonight, I will play the part of executioner, but not judge nor jury. In two hours, a broadcast will be sent from the extranet site: . It will explain what is happening tonight. And then another countdown will commence and a tally will begin. From there, the site will go live. In two hours, tune into CitadelWarden dot xnet to watch the next step in this quest for justice. I will be monitoring social media networks until then. I ensure all of you that this is not a trick, not a fluke or some kind of publicity stunt. This is as real as it gets."_

Chellick immediately opens the extranet site on his omni-tool and stares at the countdown underway on it. Only 10 minutes in.

"_Our news network will be constantly monitoring the situation for changes or updates from the Warden. But it seems clear to the Citadel that we are all meant to take part in some sort of… trial that is going to take place in a little less than 2 hours. Possibly, most disturbing however is his declaration of hostility towards C-Sec corruption, an ongoing problem that isn't a well-kept secret. It seems that the only way to be sure of being safe from the Warden is to have no criminal record or criminal history whatsoever. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but obey the laws. It's for your own safety, viewers."_

Chellick is out the door already, running back to the precinct. He arrives and everything is quiet and as he left it. He runs back to Jordan who is asleep at her desk.

"Jordan!" Chellick shouts, jolting her awake. "Turn on the news!"

"Which channel?" She asks, turning the TV on with her omni-tool.

"Any of them. Doesn't matter." Chellick says running into Pallin's office. "I'm going to call Captain Pallin and get him down here. Just watch and you'll know."

"Got it." She says watching the TV, stopping at a news channel which reads that it's broadcasting live, an abnormality for this time of night.

Chellick closes the door to Pallin's office and opens his omni-tool. He calls Captain Pallin and it rings a few times before Pallin picks up the line.

"_Chellick."_ Pallin responds, sounding shockingly alert despite the hour. _"What is it?"_

"Captain, the Warden is up to something. He sent a broadcast to all the news networks on the Citadel and is saying that tonight he's going to act as executioner but not as the judge or jury. That is a direct quote. He's going to kill tonight but he also said that in two hours he's going to explain what's going on on Citadelwarden dot xnet. He's going to kill again, but this one is important and he wants everyone to see it. Captain, something big is about to happen." Chellick explains, quickly.

"_I'll be there as soon as I can. Get to work immediately." _Pallin responds. _"Out."_

Chellick turns off his comm and steps out of Pallin's office.

Jordan is staring at the TV with a big frown on her face. "Tonight's going to be a very long night."

Chellick nods. "Yes it will be, but we may have a better chance of catching him than we ever had before. Let's go over our leads and try to piece this together a bit. Let's look at what he's been up to the past couple of weeks."

"Well, he hit Damascus Energy recently; that was his biggest sighting. He was seen in the area but there's no evidence or eyewitness accounts of him actually being in the building itself or being involved with the crime. The other man at the scene, the hooded one in black has plenty of eye witness accounts as well video footage. However, he was not seen leaving the scene at all." Jordan says.

"An accomplice, maybe." Chellick says thoughtfully. "Since the Damascus hit, his victims have been popping up all over the Citadel, so it's difficult to pinpoint an approximate location of his base of operations or his place of residence, or both. But what we do have are potential locations of his potential accomplice's activities. His activities aren't illegal in the slightest but someone matching his description has been seen a lot in a few particular places, allowing us to narrow down where we think he might be. His accomplice is a little less low key, a little more careless in his movements, and a lot less observed by the Citadel. Unlike the Warden, this other guy doesn't seem to care about the tracks he's making or rather, maybe he doesn't know how to cover them well enough. Or maybe he thinks we won't be keeping an eye on him. So let's see what he's up to, maybe it'll lead us to the Warden."

"Good idea." Jordan says. "Where should we start?"

"An individual matching his description was sighted in Lower Kithoi several times recently." Chellick says. "It's a dangerous place, but it makes sense for him to be there. I have contacts we can talk to."

Jordan nods. "Let's go."

**##########################################################**

**It doesn't take long for Detectives Chellick and Jordan to arrive in the Lower Kithoi Ward, a cesspool of crime and the slums of the Citadel, or as close to slums as the Citadel has ever seen. The detectives came looking for answers but are only going to raise more questions**

* * *

Word of the Warden's call is spreading like an infectious disease, even at this late hour. It's all anybody is talking about. And people are doing more than talking about it. There are fights erupting. People who support the Warden are getting into arguments with people who condemn his actions and that leads to fights. Even though it's late, the Citadel is waking up and it is not happy. C-Sec is getting more and more calls every minute. At this rate, the entire reserve staff duty will be called into action.

Chellick leads his partner through the dirty streets of Lower Kithoi towards the home of someone he hasn't talked to in a long time. He bangs on the small door of a building that's little more than a cargo container with a door.

The door slides open and an angry glare greets Chellick.

"Go away." The old batarian hisses at Chellick. "I'm keeping my head down. I don't need this kind of heat. Do you know what'll happen if the gangs catch sight of you talking to me?"

"Good to see you too, Fahar. You'll get the shit beat out of you." Chellick responds, blocking the door with his foot. "Or worse. So let's keep this short for your sake. I'm looking for somebody."

"Do you have a name?" Fahar asks.

"No, but I have a description." Chellick says showing him a picture of the suspect. "He's a tall human, approximately 6'0 with a lithe athletic build, approximately 160 to 170 pounds in weight. He has bluish grey eyes and he usually wears a black hooded jacket, black cargo pants, elbow and knee pads and he wears gloves. He conceals his face with a black knit cap and black scarf. Seen anybody like that around?"

"What's in it for me?" Farhar asks.

"Depends. If you don't tell me enough, nothing. I'll stay here and wait for a gang member to see me standing here talking to you. If you tell me a little, I'll leave and if you give me the information I need, I'll make it worth your while." Chellick responds, producing a credit chit he takes out of the precinct's funding to use for bribing purposes.

Fahar looks around before nodding. "Alright. I think I know who you're talking about. He's a new comer to the Citadel. An illegal I think. He's living around here somewhere, lying low. Or he has until recently. He started poking around where he shouldn't and rumor has it that one of the small time gangs down here is looking for him. I don't see him much myself, but I hear he'd been staying in the shanties down near the bridge. He left… a couple weeks ago? Somebody else lives there now. He's been gone for a while, but I've seen him talking to another human down there as well, recently, earlier this week? I snooped around and apparently that guy's like his kin or something. He's staying at your charge's old place and I know where it is. Here let me put it in your omni-tool. I don't think they look that similar, but all humans are pretty fuck-ugly so what the fuck do I know. That's all I know about him."

"You got a name for me?" Chellick asks.

Fahar shakes his head. "No, didn't give that many fucks about him. Not my fault, Chellick."

"Good enough." Chellick says with a nod, handing him his money.

Chellick and Jordan walk away, heading for the bridge nearby.

"Where did you get the money to pay him?" Jordan asks.

"I pull it from the department's funding." Chellick responds. "In vice, I'd requisition cash for drug busts but I'd get more than was needed and save the extra for things like this."

"Isn't that stealing?" Jordan asks.

"I don't think so." Chellick says. "I don't use it on myself. I use it to catch guys. I could just as easily just pocketed it all but I didn't. I'm not corrupt like 80% of C-Sec nowadays."

"Fair enough." Jordan mumbles her reply.

They reach the bridge and head down below it into the small shanty town that is conceals. Chellick wanders around with Jordan, questioning the occasional passerby before they search for and find the shack belonging to the human that Fahar talked about, the one the accomplice had been seeing talking to. They knock on the door and it opens, revealing a thin man. He's about 5'8" with a thin frame but very toned muscles. He's wearing a beater, dirty jeans, dirtier shoes and little else. His oddly well-groomed hair is unnaturally dark crimson, almost burgundy and his eyes are a deep crimson as well, like pools of dark blood. His skin is pale as hell. Jordan briefly considers that he looks like a vampire, or as close to it as a human could achieve. She assumes his gaunt face, pale complexion and current living status are the result of some drugs like heroine or something.

"What do you want?" The man asks, sounding fairly normal for being a very abnormal looking man.

"C-Sec. We're looking for somebody." Chellick replies.

"Oh." The man says looking at them suspiciously. "Who?"

"This man." Chellick says showing him a picture of the hooded suspect. "Have you seen this man? Do you know where he is?"

The pale man looks at the picture for a while before shaking his head.

"No, sorry." The pale man says trying to close the door.

"Really?" Chellick says stopping the door. "Because I heard from a reliable source that he's seen you talking to this man on multiple occasions. Care to elaborate on that?"

The pale man looks at Jordan then back at Chellick. The pale man suddenly slams the heel of his hand into Chellick's face and slams the door shut. Chellick stumbles back as some blood pours out of his nose.

"You good partner?" Jordan asks.

Chellick nods and Jordan rushes forward and kicks the door open, weapon in hand. As the door swings open, both of the detectives are knocked back by a huge wave of blood colored mist that slams into them with hurricane like force.

The mist makes their eyes burn worse than if they dropped freshly cut peppers onto their eyes and it feels like little red hot needles stabbing into their skin, nostrils, mouths, throats and lungs. Chellick coughs violently as the mist rushes past with gale force. The pain doesn't last long and the mist rushes completely past within a few seconds.

Believing the mist to be a Red Sand cloud, Chellick tries to clear his eyes of the substance that left a strange waxy residue on their bodies.

Chellick coughs a few times and his watering eyes clear as the mist passes and Chellick gets to his feet and looks up and watches the dark crimson mist, thick as oil smoke, fly through the air in a huge cloud, moving in loops and swirls before rushing into a ventilation duct and disappearing entirely. The way it flew through the air… it's almost as if it had a mind of its own.

Chellick tries to comprehend what he just saw when his partner helps him to his feet.

"Chellick, he's gone! Did you see where he went?" Jordan asks.

Chellick looks from her to the shack and then up at the vent that the mist vanished into. "I don't want to sound crazy but I think he was inside the mist."

Jordan shakes her head and starts running a medical scan of herself. "That's impossible. He must have used it to distract us while he got away. I think we should go to a hospital though, it might've been a blood agent, or even a nerve agent."

"If it was a blood agent we'd be writhing in pain right now." Chellick says walking past her into the shack. "And if it was nerve agent we'd be dead. Let's just check this place out while we still have a chance."

Jordan nods, albeit somewhat reluctantly as her scan continues and walks into the shack with Chellick. Her scan beeps and it reveals that the results are that she's perfectly healthy, albeit stressed out. Jordan moves over to the small bed and messily arranged crate nearby while Chellick occupies himself with a desk that seems out of place in the small ramshackle hooch.

Chellick frowns at the arrangement of datapads on the desk and starts going through them. He reads a few of them. Most are news articles. About half of them detail the Warden, but only the facts, none of the conspiracy or tabloid reads. The rest are articles about missing persons cases or status updates on illegals on the Citadel. There is one article from a science fiction magazine about 'super hero' sightings.

"Jordan." Chellick says with a frown while he reads the science fiction article. "What are super heroes?"

"You don't have those on Palaven?" Jordan asks. "You didn't have like, comic books and graphic novels?"

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about." Chellick says, looking at her.

"Okay, it's kind of a lot harder to explain than I thought it would be." Jordan says with a sigh. "So a comic book or graphic novel is like a book, but it's a panel by panel picture book with dialogue and some narration but little else and it relies on dialogue, narration and illustration to tell the story."

"What like a children's book?" Chellick asks with a frown.

"Literally nothing like a children's book." Jordan says. "More like a vid, but told picture by picture to move the story along. It's like that I guess. Comic books usually have science fiction or fantasy subject matter, super heroes are a particularly popular one. Like Batman, Superman, X-Men, Spiderman… nothing?"

Chellick shakes his head. "You're just naming names that I don't know. Give me a bit more here."

"Okay, so like, super heroes are people, humans, who have like extraordinary powers like laser beam eyes or super strength or super speed or maybe flight. And they go out and fight general bad guys, or super villains, who are the same as super heroes but they use their powers for evil." Jordan explains. "Does that make sense?"

Chellick shrugs. "Sort of… What's this?"

Chellick notices something peculiar on the desk. He picks it up. It looks like a book, but not anything he's seen on Palaven. He opens it and it's full of strange symbols.

"What did you find?" Jordan asks looking over his shoulder. "Oooh, it's a legit book! With paper! No way, there aren't any of these anywhere on the Citadel."

"It doesn't look like any book I've ever seen." Chellick says turning it around in his hands.

"That's because you turians didn't print your books on paper and bind them like humans did." Jordan says taking the book from him.

"I've never seen those symbols before." Chellick says, glancing at the desk and finding another book. "Oh look it's another book."

"You know what's funny." Jordan says with a laugh. "Translators work two ways, so no matter what as long as one person has an omni-tool they can be understood and understand what the other says and they automatically communicate with datapads into something that we can read, but obviously they can't tell a book to change the words. This book is just written English, the most common human language."

"You mean dialect?" Chellick asks.

"No, language. Humans have thousands of different languages, all with many different dialects as well." Jordan says.

"That's inefficient and silly. And it looks like gibberish to me." Chellick says.

Jordan frowns. "It's a journal or something but I can't find any entries… Just… What's that other book you found?"

"I don't know." Chellick says frowning at it and handing it to Jordan. "I can't read it."

"Holy moly it's a bible…" Jordan says taking the bible. "Where did he get this? Wow I have never held a real bible in my hands before how surreal… it looks like he spent some of his time transcribing this bible into his journal… But let me see…"

Jordan puts the journal down and opens the bible.

"This is even worse than the other one." Chellick says. "At least all the words were written in cohesive lines, this looks like chaos."

"That's because he's writing in the margins and spaces in the bible." Jordan says, turning the bible sideways. "He's transcribing into the journal but writing journal entries into the bible."

"That's logically backwards." Chellick says. "He's ruined his printed book with his nonsense and it's barely legible."

"I think it's kind of neat. Besides how would you know if this is legible or not, turian?" Jordan mumbles, reading the journal entries. "These are so weird… Like listen to this one:

'December 25: No food for a week. Starving. Heard of green and harvest in the valley, will try there as soon as I am strong enough. Can't live like this anymore. Merry Christmas.

'December 30: Found good hunt. Was lucky, bagged large doe. Will feed me for a week. Though, need to get to the road as soon as possible.

'January? A new place. Was walking on road, then blinding blue and white light. Curious. How did I get here? Better. Will stay, I think.

'January 8: Some men tried to kill me. I killed them first.

'January 11: Found refuge. Will stay. But too many people. Too different.

'January 31: Salvation! Not alone anymore!

'February 1: New friend. Like old friends. A familiarity in a strange new place.

'February 4: Discharge says there are more. He says we have to find them and he's already found one other. He says the other doesn't agree, wants to stay hidden. I want to find more.

'February 6: Found another with Discharge's help. Brought her to Discharge's home in that abandoned storefront in Lower Teyseri. Weaker, but needed refuge for sure.'"

"That's it, Discharge must be the guy in black." Chellick says. "Let's go to Lower Teyseri."

"Hang on." Jordan says with a frown. "Listen:

'February 9: Found another, dangerous had to kill him. Will not tell Discharge. Won't lose new friends. Need to find the Warden. Get Discharge to tell me. Have to.'"

"What the fuck doesn't this guy understand about grammar, sentence structure and syntax?" Chellick asks with a shrug.

"He's looking for the Warden." Jordan exclaims. "He killed somebody because he was too 'dangerous.' Do you think he's looking for the Warden to kill him too?"

Chellick shrugs. "Maybe. The Warden is very dangerous. Either way, we need to go find this 'Discharge.'"

Jordan nods and follows Chellick out of the shack and back to their car. Chellick starts driving to Lower Teyseri.

"What do you think he meant by 'found another' or 'found more' or 'not alone anymore?' What does he mean?" Jordan asks, speaking more to the atmosphere than to Chellick, or herself.

Despite her detachment from the conversation, Chellick chooses to say his piece. "I don't know. I don't really care either. I'm focused on finding Discharge and so we can find the Warden and so should you. Stay focused, Jordan."

"Right." Jordan says with a curt nod.

They slow their vehicle down and park.

Chellick steps out of his vehicle and locks it. He starts walking.

He draws his weapon.

"Follow me, keep your eyes open." Chellick says quietly.

"I've never been here before." Jordan mumbles as they walk into a dark building, shadows engulfing them.

"No one has." Chellick whispers leading her through the dark hall. They find their way into a large narrow room with high sheer walls on both sides of them and an arched glass ceiling.

"What is this place?" Jordan asks, looking around.

"An old place." Chellick says. "It's condemned. We only got in here easily because we have authorization codes to get into these kinds of places… But nobody has checked into this place in half a decade… I don't like it here."

Chellick looks at the ground, at the dust gathered on the ground. There are trails kicked into the dust. He follows the thickest one into a dark store. He keeps his weapon aimed as he enters. He finds a cold, empty sleeping bag, some empty cans of food and bottles of water. Chellick looks around some more but doesn't find anything of note.

They hear a gasp and spin around, weapons raised.

The person standing there is completely indescribable.

"B-Back up!" Jordan shouts. "Into the light! NOW!"

The thing backs away, stumbling backwards into the better lit main room.

Jordan gapes at what she sees and Chellick just frowns in confusion. What he sees is quite honestly indescribable. But he'll try.

It's a 5'10 humanoid creature with less than human features. It's feminine in appearance and shape, at least feminine according to human standards. It has… it's…

It's really, really hard to describe.

He'll just go from bottom to top.

It has two very long and toned digitigrade legs covered in dark blue scales that shimmer slightly in the light. Its feet have four large taloned toes that look like they'd be especially deadly and one additional digit with an especially menacing talon sticking out of the back of her foot. The scales reach up to its upper thighs and hip bones before fading away into unblemished tan human skin. It has a completely normal human stomach, chest and shoulders but its scales reappear on it sides before wrapping around it onto it back. Its arms are fairly normal but its forearms and the backs of her hands are covered in those dark blue scales. Its hands are like normal humans hands but they each end with long sharp black nails that Chellick is sure could do some serious damage. Chellick can see that the back of its neck and shoulders have the scales on them and the scales reach out onto its jaw and the backs of its cheeks before fading away again. Its ears are long and pointed and they shoot out to either side of its head, quite peculiarly. There are huge black horns that shoot out from the sides of its head and curving forward past its temples before curling up and back high over its head. It has thick black hair that falls down its back is slightly wavy thick tresses and it's kept out of its face by its horns. It has a slender, feminine face by human and asari standard with prominent cheek bones, large dark lips, a small nose and large round eyes with dark brown irises. Her eye brows are well maintained lines and above them, four tiny black horns protrude slightly from her forehead. If what Chellick understands about human female physiology is correct, this creature is a particularly example of a curvy female. The creature wears little more than a two pieces of dark brown cloth tied around its hips and its chest, protecting its modesty, barely.

Its most curious features are a pair of huge wings, folded up behind is back and a very long gently tapering, potentially prehensile tail covered in blue scales with a trio of black, slender, curved and deadly looking spikes at the end.

The creature looks at the two of them, fear in its eyes.

"What the fuck is this thing?" Chellick hisses at Jordan. "Is it some kind of human? What the fuck?!"

Jordan shakes her head. "She looks human but she also looks almost like a… dragon."

"What the fuck is a dragon?" Chellick says inching towards the creature which backs away.

The creature keeps backing away, looking fearful.

"Don't fucking move!" Chellick shouts at it. "Stop right where you are!"

The creature freezes.

Chellick notices it has a bag in its hand.

"Drop the bag." Chellick hisses at it.

The creature drops the bag and puts its hands up slowly. Cans of food roll out of the bag.

Chellick steps towards the creature and it backs up, stumbles and falls.

"Freeze!" Chellick and Jordan shout.

The creature yelps in fright both from falling and from Chellick and Jordan's shouts of command and it backs away, clawed feet pushing back against a wall. It looks at them with large eyes.

"Chellick, I don't think she'll hurt us." Jordan mumbles. "She's just afraid."

Jordan holsters her weapon slowly, and takes a few steps towards the creature.

"Jordan! Get away from it! You don't know what the fuck that thing is! It could kill us!" Chellick hisses at her.

Jordan just continues and kneels next to the creature. The thing looks between the two of them with big eyes.

"Can you understand me?" Jordan asks.

The creature nods slowly.

"What's your name?" Jordan asks.

It looks between Jordan and Chellick.

"Mercy? Mercy!" Chellick hears someone shout.

Chellick snaps his weapon to point in the direction of the voice and sees a tall thin human in black sprinting towards him. Their suspected accomplice to the Warden.

"STOP!" Chellick shouts before opening fire on the human.

The human throws his hands up and Chellick's gunfire is deflected off of a blue barrier. This man is either a powerful biotic or he has a kinetic barrier. Either way, he's dangerous.

"Mercy run!" The man shouts sliding to a halt.

The man points his hands at Chellick and huge bolts of blue lightning shoot out of his hands.

The lightning hits Chellick in the chest and the power of it throws him back. It's like every nerve in his body feels pain as he twitches and writhes on the ground. Meanwhile Jordan opens fire on the man in black. The man in black, distracted by his attack on Chellick gets hit by Jordan's gunfire. He stumbles and falls to the ground with a grunt of pain.

Jordan advances, weapon trained on him. "Don't fucking move!"

"Don't hurt him!" Jordan hears the creature scream at her.

Jordan spins around only to be met with a huge wave of flame. Jordan dives to the side, but her jacket catches on fire.

Jordan rolls, struggling to put out her flaming jacket and eventually just rips it off of her body. Panting she gets to her feet and spots the dragon creature and their suspect escaping the room, the dragon creature supporting the tall man in black.

Jordan runs over to Chellick. "Partner! Are you okay?!"

Chellick nods quickly despite the pain. "Get them! I'll- Agh! I'll be okay!"

Jordan nods, reluctantly and sprints after her two suspects, opening her comm to dispatch while she runs. "Dispatch this is Special Detective Jordan! We have an officer down and two suspects fleeing from my current location. In pursuit! Requesting backup and an EMT ASAP!"

"_Roger that Detective. Back up is on its way." _Dispatch responds.

Jordan sprints out of the building after her two suspects.

She spots them heading down an alleyway close by. Jordan can catch them if she hurries. She sprints after them, her weapon in hand.

"Stop!" Jordan shouts, sprinting down the alleyway at them.

They round a corner and Jordan sprints around it after them. She catches them in a dead end and raises her weapon at them.

"Don't move!" Jordan shouts at them.

The man in black is leaning against a wall, clutching his side. The dragon creature straightens slowly, turning towards Jordan.

"Put your hands above your heads and lay down on the ground." Jordan orders firmly, slowly approaching. "An EMT is on its way. If you let me take you into custody we can get you and your friend help."

The dragon creature looks at the man in black. The man in black nods.

The dragon creature looks back at Jordan and Jordan watches as a glow appears in her chest. The glow rises up through her throat and into her cheeks before the dragon creature opens her mouth wide and with a mighty, frighteningly dragon-like roar unleashes a huge swath of flame.

Jordan dives behind a dumpster as the flames wash over, engulfing the entire alleyway. Jordan feels like she's getting cooked alive.

Very suddenly the flames disappear and the air gets very cool. Jordan opens her eyes and stumbles out of her hiding spot with her weapon pointed. The two of them are gone, leaving only small flames slowly dying in the alleyway.

Jordan, panting, approaches where they were. She looks at the wall, a bloody handprint being the only thing they left behind. Jordan curses as she notices that there aren't any prints. He must have been wearing gloves. Regardless, she takes scans of the hand print as well as the flames to assess what exactly caused them. According to her omni-tool, they were fueled by an unknown accelerant that burns at extremely hot temperatures. She also received blood analysis data, including the blood type and the red to white ratio, however DNA testing was rendered inconclusive.

Jordan returns to the abandoned building, calling dispatch to tell them that her suspects escaped.

Jordan finds a few squad cars and an ambulance car outside of the building. Chellick is sitting lazily on the back of the ambulance, the EMTs checking him for injuries.

"Did they get away?" Chellick asks as Jordan arrives next to him.

Jordan nods. "Yeah, I think the dragon blew fire at me."

The EMT frowns at her.

"Go away." Chellick says to the EMT. "I'm fine."

The EMT leaves expediently.

"I don't think we should put exactly what we found here in the reports." Chellick says.

Jordan nods. "Probably a good idea. Not until we have something to show for it. Nobody will believe us."

"Exactly." Chellick says with a nod. "Besides, it might not have appeared exactly as we thought it did."

"Sure, like the fire could have come from a flame thrower… even though it came out of the girl's mouth. And the girl could have been wearing an elaborate costume or something."

Chellick shrugs. "Maybe, but where should we look now?"

Jordan frowns and checks the time. "Well… The Warden's next broadcast is in a minutes. Let's watch it on my omni-tool before we decide anything."

Jordan brings up the extranet site and the countdown continues with only a minute left. They watch in horror as the Warden appears on screen with a captive man next to him, bloodied and beaten. They watch the entire broadcast in silence, a few of the officers actually joining them to watch as well.

The broadcast ends, and it is replaced with another countdown along with two links. One says 'Evidence' and the other says 'Dirty Cops.'

Jordan looks at Chellick and he frowns and presses the 'Dirty Cops' link for her. A long list of names, with pictures and appears as well as detailed information about each cop, including their addresses and phone numbers. In addition to all of their personal information, it lists exactly why they're dirty. Chellick scrolls through the list but stops it suddenly.

Chellick stares at the list and looks up at one of the C-Sec officers standing right there, his face being on the list in front of him, accused of taking bribes from Alter. There's photograph evidence of him receiving a bribe, as well as bank statements showing extremely large jumps in his account due to cash deposits. Once a month.

"I-I-I…" The officer stutters backing away slowly. The other officers all look at him.

"You let a _pedophile _and a _slaver _bribe you?" One of the officers hisses at him. "How much did he pay you? Did he let you fuck one of his little girls too you fucking son of a bitch?!"

"Fuck off, motherfucker!" The accused officer shouts defensively. "You're on the take from the Cartel!"

The dirty cop gets struck straight in the nose by the other officer and a fight breaks out amongst the officers present.

"ENOUGH!" Chellick shout loudly enough for all the cops to stop fighting.

The dirty cop coughs out some blood as it pours from his broken nose. "Please… I didn't…"

"Go home." Chellick mumbles. "You've got a wife. Go home. The entire Citadel knows your address, knows that you're a dirty cop. You've got bigger shit to worry about right now."

The dirty cop blinks and stumbles to his feet, sprinting off.

Chellick gets to his feet. "Let's look into this Alter guy."

One of the officers stops Chellick as he and Jordan start to walk off. "Sorry, Special Detective, but I just got a call in from dispatch. They're recalling everyone back to their precincts."

"What?" Chellick says with a frown. "Why?"

"Riots are breaking out." The officer responds with a frown. "All officers are getting dispatched tonight. There are too few of us and too many people going crazy over this."

"Rioting? On which Wards?" Jordan asks.

"All of them." The officer responds with a frown. "The Presidium too."

"Fuck." Chellick mumbles.

**##########################################################**

**Meanwhile, Discharge 'Discharge' Pierce searches for sanctuary, and for answers. Deep down, he fears that the Warden's wish of meta-human secrecy may not happen**

* * *

"Discharge!" Mercy exclaims, yelping when the lift begins descending the chute at extreme speed.

"Don't worry." Discharge says, collapsing against the shielded wall of the lift. "It's okay. It's taking us somewhere safe."

"You're bleeding so much." Mercy says kneeling next to him. "Let me see."

"I need to keep pressure on it." Discharge says with a groan of pain. "I'll bleed out."

He looks down at his stomach. That lady cop shot him twice in the stomach and a third round grazed his forearm, but that's barely bleeding. The two in his stomach are off to the side, just above his hip bone and an inch apart.

"You're getting too weak." Mercy says. "Let me put pressure on it."

Discharge is reluctant but nods and moves his hand. Mercy quickly replaces his hand with both of hers. Her hands are a smaller than Discharge's are, but she applies much more pressure. Discharge winces in pain.

"Are you going to be okay?" Mercy asks, looking up at Discharge.

Discharge shrugs. "Fuck, I hope so. This hurts a lot though. I don't see how Jack could possibly stand this."

"Jack… Are we going to his Warehouse? The one you told me about?" Mercy asks.

Discharge nods. "Yes. But Jack told me not to go looking for other meta-humans and he told me that he doesn't want too many people at the Warehouse, that's why I was keeping you with me. It's safer at the Warehouse, but I was afraid that Jack might cut me out if he learned that I disobeyed him, or maybe he'd do worse."

"Jack… You told me he's like us." Mercy says.

Discharge nods. "He is… he's the first one of us that I found. Or rather, he found me. If he hadn't, I think I'd still believe I was alone and I wouldn't have found you. He's very, very dangerous Mercy."

"Is he an Alpha?" Mercy asks, looking a little worried.

Discharge pauses. He's reluctant to tell her. In the old world, being a meta-human was a secret that must be kept. If you were lucky enough to not have a God's Gene that changed your appearance then you kept your abilities a secret, and you only used your power if you had to. Poor Mercy; she's had such a hard life because of her Gene. But above all else, if you were an Alpha, you never used your powers, even if you had to. Because who knows what the repercussions of using them would be. Jack is a special Alpha, in that he can't control his powers. But that doesn't make him any less dangerous than one. In fact, he makes no attempt at hiding his powers at all. That puts him into a different class all together.

Discharge decides, that for Mercy's safety, she should know more about Jack.

"He doesn't think he's an Alpha. But he definitely is." Discharge says. "His powers make him more durable and he can take a mean punishment. He's far, far stronger than normal humans and his physical strength borders superhuman. Even if you hurt him, his wounds will heal within seconds. If you do manage to kill him though, his true power emerges. He can't die, Mercy. He says that he'll be dead for a little bit, and then he'll come back to life. When you meet him, don't let his appearance fool you. He looks young, but he's over 200 years old. And he's got the brains to go with it. I don't think I've ever met somebody so intelligent, it's like he can read your mind. But his age has made him crazy. He thinks his purpose in life is to eradicate crime, evil and bad people so that good people can live good lives in peace."

"That's scary." Mercy says.

"Don't be afraid. He won't hurt you." Discharge says with a nod and a wince of pain. "Just do not get in his way and if he asks you to do something, you do it, no matter what it is."

Mercy nods. "Okay."

"I almost regret meeting him." Discharge says with a frown. "He's so dangerous. It's almost safer to not know him. I'm afraid that if I get on his bad side, I won't live long to regret it."

Mercy blinks. "I won't let him hurt you."

"Same for you." Discharge says nodding at her. "It took you long enough to warm up to me by the way. I think this is the most I've heard you talk since I met you. I don't blame you though. It must have been hard for you. But I don't blame you for not trusting me right away. I mean, I could have been a psycho killer or worse. But believe me, I just want to help people."

Mercy nods slowly. "I don't trust people. Never completely. But you and I need each other right now."

"Yeah." Discharge says nodding too.

Mercy shifts her weight and Discharge winces and barks in pain.

"Sorry!" Mercy says quickly.

"Ugh!" Discharge grunts and his head droops for a second. "I'm feeling… sleepy. I need to drain power to heal now or else I don't think I'll make it."

Discharge reaches his hand up to drain energy from the lift but Mercy stops him. "Hold on, I can help you."

She takes her hands off of Discharge's wound and he quickly replaces hers with his hands. Mercy presses the claw of her thumb against her forearm and cuts herself deeply. Dark blood starts to run out of the deep yet narrow cut. Mercy quickly presses her mouth to the wound and scrunches her face. After a few seconds, she grabs the sides of Discharge's face and presses her lips against his.

Discharge gasps, his eyes widen before squeezing shut and his heart feels like it shrinks down to the size of a peanut before imploding to 10 times its normal size. Her lips… are so… plump and soft. He feels Mercy opens his mouth with hers and he feels a rush of liquid into his mouth. He realizes that this isn't really a kiss but she's transferring her blood from her mouth into his. Her blood, oddly, doesn't taste like iron like normal blood does but her blood tastes like chewing mint leaves mixed with the juice of a lemon would be the closet description. Knowing he has to, he gulps the blood down and it feels like taking a shot of whiskey, burning a hole in his stomach. He looks down at his belly as he realizes his bleeding slows to almost nothing. In addition, the pain in his stomach is also numbed thoroughly.

"What was that?" Discharge asks, breathlessly.

"My blood has a hyperactive clotting agent in it that reacts chemically with the acid in your stomach. It stops your bleeding and it also has powerful painkilling properties as well. It won't heal your wounds, not instantly. It helps, sure, but I didn't want you draining power from this lift and sending us falling into the abyss." Mercy says, her wound already not bleeding any longer despite the depth of it and before his eyes it already starts to close very slowly.

"Thanks, this'll help me pull through until we get to the Warehouse… Can I just ask one thing?" Discharge asks.

"Yes, of course." Mercy says, expecting a question about her abilities.

"Couldn't I have just drank it from your arm? Did you have to kiss me?" Discharge asks, feeling warmth in his face.

Mercy looks at the floor bashfully. "Don't be absurd! I didn't do that because I wanted to! I merely find that it's much easier to get people to drink it in the proper quantities and in the fastest way possible that way!"

"I didn't say that you wanted to." Discharge points out.

Mercy blushes but doesn't reply.

They feel the lift start to slow down.

"We're here. Jack isn't here right now. But it might be a good idea to wait here for me. The people here have never seen a meta-human like you before." Discharge says.

"But, your wound." Mercy says, helping Discharge to his feet as the lift comes to a stop.

Discharge shakes his head. "I'll be okay. I just need to get to a power source. They have an extra I can draw from here. Just help me down the lift and I'll take it from here."

Mercy nods, reluctantly.

They step out of the chute, onto the lift.

"How did Jack find this place?" Mercy asks staring around the vast room.

"The same way I found where we were staying." Discharge says, letting Mercy help him off of the lift. "By accident, and because he needed to find it."

Discharge lets Mercy help him over to the entrance to the Warehouse.

"Okay." Discharge says, pushing himself away from Mercy. "Wait here. I'll be right back, okay?"

Mercy nods and steps away.

Discharge steps into the Warehouse.

"Senna?! Vaas?!" Discharge shouts, loudly.

"Discharge?" Draco asks, appearing from the shadows nearby, as he often does. "You're hurt!"

"Yeah, just help me get to one of the microfusion batteries." Discharge says, nearly collapsing to the ground.

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck man, you've lost a lot of blood over here." Draco says, supporting some of Discharge's weight. "Come on they're over here."

Draco takes him over to where the extra batteries are being kept. Along the way, Turok joins the two of them and takes over supporting Discharge's weak frame.

"How'd you get hurt there, buddy?" Turok asks, easing Discharge down into a chair and dropping the battery in his lap.

Discharge grabs the battery with both his hands and starts draining it. He sighs with relief as he feels the energy coursing through his veins, closing the wound and forcing the bullet out a bit more with every pulsating surge from the battery.

After Discharge is completely healed, he puts the battery down and gets to his feet. "I got shot by a C-Sec detective. I think they were looking for me. Maybe something to do with the batteries. Maybe something to do with Jack. I don't know. But it's not safe where we were anymore so we came here."

"As long as you have nowhere else to go, Jack will be okay with it, I think." Turok says with a curt nod.

"What did you mean, 'we?'" Draco asks.

Discharge nods. "I'm not alone."

"_That_ Jack is not going to be okay with." Vaas says, arriving from around a corner and removing dark tinted four-eyed goggles from his eyes. "What were you thinking, bringing somebody here?"

"Discharge, you brought somebody here?" Senna asks, coming to see what all the commotion was about. "How do we know this person can be trusted?"

Discharge nods. "She can. Without a doubt. She's a good person. Here, come with me."

Discharge leads them back towards the Warehouse entrance.

"Um." Discharge says, turning around to face them. "You may want to prepare yourselves to see this."

"What do you mean?" Turok asks.

"Just, brace yourselves." Discharge says stepping out of the Warehouse. "You'll see."

They all follow Discharge outside of the Warehouse, frowning in confusion at his sketchy and vague comments.

"Mercy?" Discharge calls looking around. "You can come out! Where are you?!"

"Here!" Mercy calls, from above.

They all look up at her just as she peels into a steep dive, landing with both speed and grace. She straightens and looks at the group, nervously.

"No fucking way." Draco says with a wide smile. "It's a fucking dragon."

"I really don't like being called that." Mercy says.

"Mercy, this is Senna, Turok, Draco and Vaas. They're friends of Jack's." Discharge says, gesturing to each of them respectively. "Everybody, this is Mercy. A fellow meta-human."

"No fucking way." Draco says, again.

"I've definitely never seen a human like this before." Senna says.

"Definitely a lot uglier than a normal human. As if that was even possible." Vaas says, rather loudly.

Mercy looks at him, completely offended and shocked he'd say such a thing.

Turok shrugs. "In my opinion, she's a vast aesthetic improvement to a normal human, if anything. Look, she's got scales and claws. And the color! Damn sexy."

Mercy bashfully rubs her scaled forearm.

"Mercy here is a Gamma meta-human, but a powerful one at that. Her appearance is highly affected by her God's Gene, but her powers more than make up for it." Discharge says with a smile.

"What can you do, besides fly?" Vaas asks.

"In addition to being able to fly thanks to my wings, I have vastly superior strength to most any human, especially one of my size, my claws can rend steel, my tail I can use as a very deadly weapon and I can breathe fire." Mercy says, building up a little flame in her chest to show them the glow.

"And you don't like being called a dragon?" Draco says.

Mercy growls, deep, low and animalistic. "No. Dragons don't exist. I do."

"What did they call you then? Where you're from?" Draco asks.

Puffs of smoke shoot out of Mercy's nostrils. "… Dragon. But do not call me that. My name is Mercedes. But I prefer Mercy."

"Is that all you can do?" Turok asks.

"Well, my blood does have some healing properties, actually." Mercy says. "There are lots of other things, but otherwise that's about all there is of interest."

"How did you two meet?" Senna asks.

"I found Mercy." Discharge says. "I know Jack told me not to go looking for meta-humans, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to know whether we were alone or not. But we aren't! I found another meta-human and we together found Mercy. She was barely conscious when we found her, hadn't eaten in so long."

Mercy nods. "I was in a bad spot but Discharge saved me."

"We're even now. If it wasn't for Mercy I'd be in C-Sec custody or worse." Discharge says with a nod to her. "But I don't think I can stay."

"Why not? Isn't C-Sec looking for you?" Vaas asks.

"That other meta-human I met, I'm worried that he might be in danger. I just want to make sure he's okay. Then I'll come back." Discharge says before turning to Mercy. "You'll be safe here. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll be back soon."

Discharge leaves out of the chute that will take him closest to where he's trying to go. He finds his way to the bridge and is pleased to find that the cabin is barren of C-Sec officers. He checks inside, but doesn't find his friend.

"Hello?" Discharge says quietly. "It's me, Desmond."

Discharge frowns and leaves, returning to the chute. Just before he even opens it, he checks around to make sure that nobody is around to see him enter. He can't shake the feeling that he's being watched though. Discharge looks up and sighs out of his nose.

"What the hell Vernon?" Discharge says with a glare. "Get the hell down here, you're creeping me out."

A dense crimson mist that hangs in the air like a sad cloud suddenly pours down to the ground, turning into a waterfall of what looks like blood. Oddly the pool it pours into doesn't spread after a certain point it just grows into a large burbling mass of sorts. The huge mass of rolling blood compresses together into a human shape and the human shaped blood fades into Vernon, somehow fully clothed despite this.

"I told you I like my moniker." Vernon says with a frown.

"What was it again?" Discharge asks.

Vernon blinks at him. "Brother Blood."

"Right." Discharge says with a frown. "I remember. You mentioned it's ripping off from an old comic book villain, right?"

Vernon 'Brother Blood' Christopherson nods. "Yeah, but it's got a nice ring to it. Alliteration and all that. Plus it fits."

"Alright, Brother Blood." Discharge says. "Did C-Sec find you?"

"Yes, they came to me looking for you." He says. "I've been hiding, but I went back to get my bible and my journal."

"You're lucky you have something from the old world." Discharge says. "I don't have shit."

Brother Blood shrugs. "It's helped a lot over the years."

"Do you need a place to hide?" Discharge asks, nervously.

Brother Blood shakes his head, much to Discharge's relief. "I'll be fine. I'm resourceful. But I need your help."

"What is it?" Discharge asks.

"Well, two things." Brother blood says with a shrug. "First, I found another meta-human that needs our help. Second, I need to find the Warden and I know you know where he is right now Discharge."

"Why do you want to see Jack?" Discharge asks.

Brother Blood is quiet for a second. "Discharge do you trust me? Are we friends?"

"Of course." Discharge says.

"I need to kill him." Brother Blood says. "He's an Alpha. Alphas can't live. It was true in the old world and it's even truer here. Alphas are too damn powerful, they can't live. Consider the repercussions. On Earth, the planet could be destroyed and a lot of people would die. But that was the Old World. This space station alone houses more than the total population of the Old World. And it's the center of the galaxy's government. It would be cataclysmic. I have to kill him."

Discharge is about to protest this, but he takes pause. "How do you expect to kill Jack?"

"I can." Brother Blood says. "Trust me."

Discharge frowns at him. "No."

"Discharge, he can't live." Brother Blood says. "I have to kill him."

"No." Discharge says again. "I won't take part in this. Find him yourself."

Brother Blood looks at Discharge angrily before exploding into a blood red mist and flying off.

Discharge watches him go and frowns. Now he's going to have to kill him… But killing a fog or a puddle might prove a bit challenging. Maybe Jack is right. Maybe meta-humans are too dangerous. And he knows it.

Discharge isn't someone who shies away from that sort of thing. It's ugly, it's gruesome, and it's unfortunate, but killing is a necessity at times. And it's a very simple, very permanent solution to problems, especially those regarding other people. All Discharge really wants to do is help others, but he can't do that when there are people like Brother Blood killing the people who are in his best interests. Jack is evil, but he's a necessary evil. Discharge doesn't quite know what Jack will do that will be so important, but he knows that Jack is someone who history notices and whoever's close to him is going to be integral in history changing…

Discharge turns and enters the chute.

* * *

**Afterword from the Author: Greetings, thank you for reading this most recent chapter of Judgement. The date today is August 26th, 2015. I want to put out some news. I've been spending a lot of time really barreling down on the finer details of the story. I noticed that I made a few errors in past chapters, namely with things like the title of the story and just little annoying things like that. I know most people probably wouldn't notice stuff like that, and I really don't want to go back and change it because honestly that's almost what makes these online stories cool. You know? It's a work in progress just like we are. Anyways, I wanted to inform you of a couple of things.**

**First off, a little background. This story was very much an experiment of sorts for me. I started writing it because I had this crazy idea in my head of 'how fucked up can someone who lives forever really be?' so I started coming up with ideas about this main character and sort of built around that. And the story really was very different when I first started writing it. At first, the only unique characteristic about Jack was that he could come back to life. And that was really it. He was a skilled and fit individual but you could shoot him in the heart and kill him easily. Then, 2 or 3 chapters in I came up with this wild idea that maybe there are others like him. And that really blew my plot up and opened about a thousand doors for me. So, basically what I'm saying is that at first, I really had barely an idea of what I was doing. **

**Playing off of that, here's why I told you that: Now I do. I just took about 3 days to sit down and look at my story so far and say okay how do I make this fantastic for people to read? When I read books there are a few things that make that book stand out to me. The characters, both supporting and the main. The tone, not necessarily the plot because that really is just a circumstance. And the big picture, what am I trying to tell you? So I started by examining the flaws of the story and my flaws as a writer. First, for some odd reason, I love to name random characters in the story. I noticed I did that as I named a completely random guy I was writing. I was like, why did I give him a name? I have no intention of bringing him back at all. Then I thought maybe I should. So I decided that every character I name will be important to the story in some way. So expect that. Second, I addressed the issue that I seem to love to come up with all these ideas for events that I think would be cool and I just fart them onto my keyboard with no consideration to how they might be important later on or how they compel the plot line or anything. So I said, well, now I _will _make them important. So expect that as well.**

**So what I did was I sat down, took down the names of every character in the story so far and I wrote out a basic character synopsis of them. Who they are, where they're from, what's their backstory, etc. Then I wrote how they become important to the story. And I don't mean to push my own buttons, but I did a fucking good job guys. Seriously. I have about 10 pages worth of broad brainstorming material that has yet to make it to paper, and honestly each page of brainstorming will probably translate to a few hundred pages worth of readable material for this story I'm writing. They're all really cool ideas and I think they tie together very well with all of the character's personalities and support the plot and the big picture.**

**So, I'm so excited to write this story and share it with you. However I'm finding that my life is getting busier and busier as the weeks go by. So if you like the story, please let me know. Leave a review telling me what you think. Feel free to send me messages on the messenger. Ask questions or just to chat, I guarantee you I'll get back to you.**

**Thank you so much for making this story possible, thanks for reading, for reviewing and favoring the story. Follow the story to get informed when I put out new chapters if you like, share it with your friends who might like the material and have a wonderful day my loves! Cheers!**

**~Coma**


	13. Chapter 13: Judgement Day

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUDGEMENT**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 13**

**JUDGEMENT DAY**

**##########################################################**

**It is February 10****th****, almost the 11****th****. The Citadel is in chaos. But it is chaotic for a purpose. We're mere moments away.**

I stand, waiting, a wide smile on my face beneath my helmet. I have retrieved my shoulder holster and my jacket and now I wait. I have my hand on the back of Alter's chair. All I need to do is push.

There's a dull very subtle shaking in the floor and a sound like a distant jet engine starts to make its way to my ears.

I smile wider. So many people. The doors to the commercial warehouse we're in shift dramatically all of the sudden and there's a huge noise like a shot from a cannon. It happens three more times before the doors to the warehouse burst open and thousands and thousands of people start pouring in, roaring at the tops of their lungs. The noise is incredible and the ground shakes with such a power. They rioters gather around me, surrounding the conex box screaming at me and at Alter. People start throwing things, bottles, pipes, anything that they can get their hands on.

I use my omni-tool to amplify my voice.

"Good evening everyone!" I say with a booming powerful voice. "I see you're all here for the verdict! Carl Alter has been deemed guilty of his crimes and he is sentenced to death!"

The crowd roars louder than ever and shouts and jeers erupt. People screaming for Alter's death.

"Please…" Alter says, sobbing quietly. "Please don't… You don't have to do this…"

"Actually I do." I say, pushing Alter in his chair.

He gasps but that is cut short as he falls out of his chair, the chain noose catching him as he swings out away from the conex box. His tongue lolls out of his mouth and he kicks the air as he swings back and forth over the crowd.

The crowd erupts with excitement now. They scream in a frenzy and people still hurl objects at Alter's suspended body, try to leap up and grab his feet. Slowly, he stops kicking and goes limp.

"Will you stand for terrible people like him?!" I shout through my omni-tool. "People like him; they plague your society! They do not deserve to live! You, good innocent people, may take comfort in knowing that I am here to cleanse your plague! I will kill every last criminal on the Citadel so that you all may live in happiness!"

Just as the crowd reaches the peak of its excitement, something peculiar, but honestly not surprising happens. From the doors, a red fog pours into the Warehouse with incredible speed and vigor and spreads, engulfing the crowd. The rioters start choking and all quickly pass out. It lingers for only a few seconds before it swirls up into the air, a massive blood colored tornado before crashing back a single point in the ground, disappearing rapidly and when it is all gone, in its place is a man with crimson hair and pale skin.

"Hello, Warden." The man shouts to me from across the room.

I look around at all the prone people. "Did you just kill all these people?"

"They're just unconscious." He shouts back to me. "My name is Brother Blood and like you I have a mission. God commanded me long ago to make sure that people can continue to live and worship his good name, despite the chaos, despite the hardship. He commanded me to eradicate those who would endanger those who would ensure this… But unlike you, I don't kill people who don't deserve it."

"Who do you eradicate then?" I ask, hopping off the conex box and landing without hurting any of the unconscious people.

"I kill Alpha meta-humans." He shouts. "Those who are too powerful for their own good. Those who have the power to eradicate everyone who might worship our Lord and Savior. And you might be one of the worst ones I have ever seen. You create chaos, Warden. For what purpose? To what end? Justice? Justice is meaningless compared to His glory."

"You're from the old world, Brother?" I ask. "How old are you son? 20's? 30's maybe? I have outlived you a dozen times over and I can tell you that there is no God, you misguided fool. What God would allow such a hell? And maybe that was what the old world was. Hell. Even so, in God's name you kill all Alphas? How silly. They call it the God's Gene for a reason. It's His gift to humanity, is it not? And you kill his most powerful, his most gifted servants. What a hypocrite you are!"

"Shut your heathen mouth! You damned boor!" Brother Blood roars at me. "I am not the hypocrite here, you are! You, who murders in the name of justice, who creates chaos in the name of peace! Wrong! Come! Fight me, Warden!"

"Not here." I say. "I don't want to hurt these people."

"Very well." Brother Blood growls.

He explodes into a vast wave of what looks like blood and rushes at me. The blood sweeps me up and carries me in its mass deeper into the warehouse and as it rushes me through the building I catch a glimpse of Angeline, staring at me wide eyed as I shoot by in a river of blood. The moment that I have will pass fast so I try to make the most of it.

"Run!" I scream as I'm swept by. "Don't look back!"

It's fleeting and my words may have been for naught however as I am carried into darkness before I find myself falling. I slam into a normal river of water and get to my feet slowly, no pain lingering thanks to my armor.

I seem to be in some kind of aqueduct or sewer. And facing me in this dark tunnel is Brother Blood.

"Here we are Warden!" He shouts at me. "Say your prayers."

"Pointless." I say. "Heaven doesn't want me and Hell is afraid I'll take over. So they always put me right back here."

"Let's see how well you can survive when you're ripped apart, molecule by molecule." Brother Blood growls. "I'm no ordinary meta-human, Warden. I can change my state of matter at will and control every single molecule in my body. Let's see how well you can kill a liquid, or a gas!"

He explodes into a tidal wave of blood once again and sweeps me up. I'm like a ragdoll, slammed into the walls of the aqueduct over and over and over again. My armor registers massive structural damage. He keeps slamming me into the walls, grinding me against the ground.

Finally I am hurled down the tunnel and I slam into the ground.

I cough out some blood. Wow that hurt really bad. I look up at Brother Blood's liquid form, a swirling mass of blood.

"Time to die, Jack!" He roars, his voice sounding like it's coming from a thousand different places at once, slamming into me with incredible force. I hit a wall and he keeps me there, blood shooting against me with all the power of a tsunami. The power of his attack shears my armor off, bit by bit, until finally my helmet gets ripped off.

His attack eases off and I fall to the ground, but no rest is allowed. A thick blood colored mist or fog pours into my mouth, nose, eyes and ears, forcing its way down my throat, into my lungs, into my blood stream, into my stomach and into my intestines. I don't quite feel it at first, but as I'm filled with the gas it feels as if I'm going to burst and that doesn't feel good at all. But after a while the pain is like nothing I have ever felt, like billions of needles, scraping at my skin, at my insides. The fog surrounds me and I feel myself actually falling apart. Getting deconstructed, my body getting separated at the molecular level.

My eyes are picked away into nothingness, my tongue and teeth eaten away by this horrible fog. Every organ in my body is pulled apart and then deconstructed as my flesh is eaten away as if I was being consumed by billions of tiny flies. He follows the natural pathways to take me apart faster, like my bloodstream and my digestive system but worse of them all, he follows the pathways of my nervous system and deconstructs that bit by bit and that is so excruciating. It takes so long for me to die. There's so little of me left at this point, I'm surprised I last quite as long as I do.

Darkness over takes me.

Is it done? I was torn apart, molecule, by molecule, by molecule… How could I possibly come back from this?

**##########################################################**

**C-Sec arrives on scene shortly after learning the location of the Warden. But they are by far, too late. All they arrive to find is the hanging corpse of Carl Alter, executed without due process. And along with that, a couple dozen rioters who claim to have fainted shortly after the execution. They also find a young slave, Angeline Jade Rose. Hours later, the rioting has been quelled on its own, people returning home to pretend that what happened the night before hadn't at all.**

"Okay, tell me again." Chellick says.

"For the last, fucking time." A batarian rioter growls. "I was there I admit it. The Warden was standing on top of that conex box, he said some shit that got me really fired up and he pushed Alter off. Alter hung for a bit, kicked like an animal and died. The Warden said some more shit that got me even more pumped, and just as I was getting ready to leave and go look for some crooked C-Sec officers, this… like… dark red fog poured into the warehouse. It was weird. I saw it and tried to hold my breath but it like forced its way into my lungs and I passed out. It burned my throat and my eyes and my lungs. I woke up with handcuffs on along with a few dozen others. I guess everyone woke up before I did and booked it the fuck out of there."

"Right…" Chellick mumbles with a frown. Red fog. Can't be a coincidence. "Thanks for your cooperation."

Chellick walks over to Jordan who is speaking to the 'victim' Angeline Jade Rose. They're sitting at a table that apparently the Warden set up. CSI has already taken all the evidence they need and the C-Sec officers have put refreshments on the table.

Angeline and Jordan are sipping something hot from mugs.

Chellick leans against the table next to Jordan when he reaches it. "Evening ladies."

"Angeline, this is Special Detective Ar Chellick." Jordan says. "Could you tell him what you told me? About tonight?"

Angeline nods. "I was in a box. In the shipping yards. It was freezing cold and pitch black. I remember getting moved though. A lot of shaking. Then next thing I know, I was here. I knew who he was. He said that he needed me to do something for him and if I didn't he'd kill me for being a loose end. But if I did, he said he wouldn't and that I could go free after. He told me what was happening and… I almost wanted to help him. He just wanted me to talk… And then he fed me. He cooked steak and it was really good, and he had all this fruit and chocolate and soda and water… I hadn't eaten in so long I couldn't even remember when it was. At some point… I made him very angry. I told him, he was just like Alter and he got really mad. It was scary. He kept saying that I didn't matter and I didn't like that. But I didn't want to make him angrier. He had me do the broadcast and then he didn't talk to me much at all after that, just told me to sit, wait and stay safe."

"Did the Warden remove his helmet at all?" Chellick asks. "Did you get to see what he looked like?"

Angeline looks away for a second then looks back. "No. He kept it on the entire time."

"Don't lie to me, Angeline." Chellick says.

"I'm not." She insists. "I didn't see his face."

"I know you're lying." Chellick says. "There were two sets of dishes, two sets of cutlery both used and two left over bones from the steaks you both ate. I know he ate. And he can't eat through his helmet. So why don't you tell me what he looked like."

"He… I…" Angeline looks away.

"Angeline." Jordan says. "You will not get in any trouble. We need to know what he looked like so we can figure out who he is."

"He…" Angeline pauses again, looking at the table. After a few seconds she looks up at Chellick. "He was a batarian. I don't really know much, I mean, batarians all look kind of the same to me. But he had dark tan skin, really sharp teeth and black eyes. I remember he had a very big scar on his face. It looked like maybe he had gotten attacked by an animal like a lion and it clawed his face. His lips were messed up real bad from it."

"That's very helpful, Angeline." Jordan says with a nod and a smile.

Chellick nods slowly. "Right… Anything else you can remember? Did you see this, 'red fog' everyone's talking about?"

"When the crowd came in, I hid. I didn't see anything, I didn't even see Carl Alter get hung. But the crowd got real quiet really fast and I heard the Warden talking to somebody and then I saw the Warden running deeper into the warehouse. He looked at me as he ran by, he nodded, told me to run and not look back, and then I didn't see anything else. I kept hiding until you came." Angeline says looking between the detectives every so often.

"Okay, you did great Angeline." Jordan says getting to her feet. "If you need anything, I'll be close by."

Chellick and Jordan start walking deeper into the warehouse, like Angeline said, bringing a pair of officers with them.

"She's lying. She knows more." Chellick says. "She's telling mostly the truth, but not all of the truth."

Jordan shakes her head. "She's just a traumatized little girl, Chellick. Leave her alone. No wonder some details got fuzzy, the poor thing has been through hell 10 times over. She doesn't deserve anything like this."

"Trauma has been scientifically proven to make one remember certain specific events in greater detail." Chellick says matteroffactly. "She'd have told us a story with certain details very, very specific and others very broad. First off, I don't think he's batarian. I think he's human and he's just trying to make everyone think he's batarian as a cover up. They both had beef steaks from your Earth cows. I have never met a batarian who would just a beef steak over meat from the batarian homeworld. To my recollection, batarians hate everything human. All of the food here is stuff humans like. The soft drinks, the steaks, the human fruits. The meat was even cooked in a human fashion. Even if we were dealing with a batarian with a peculiar love of human food there is no reason why he would cook it outside of the batarian style. It doesn't add up. Just because she's had a shitty life so far and that she's a little girl doesn't mean I should automatically trust her and believe everything she says."

"You're a real hard ass, Chellick. What you're saying makes sense but until I see him without a helmet myself, I'm not going to assume he's either batarian or human." Jordan says. "What are we looking for specifically by the way?"

Chellick frowns. "An exit or something. Maybe a vent or…"

Chellick notices something. It's a run off drain and a big one at that. He kneels next to it and starts examining it. He notices that it's capable of opening and the lock is broken.

"Here." Chellick says waving the other officers over. "You two hop down into there and check up and down the run-off tunnel. Do not go any deeper than you have to."

The officers both nod and open the sewer drain. The drop in chem lights and turn on their flashlights.

"Anything?" Chellick calls down to them after a few seconds.

"Not yet, sir." One responds. "We found some weird debris and scratches on the walls. We're going to follow them and keep radio contact. We'll mark our path and turn back when we think we've gone too far. We'll call you if we find anything."

"Roger that, keep me updated." Chellick says, getting to his feet. "Meanwhile, let's look around a bit more. I have a feeling something else is here for us."

**##########################################################**

**Two officers descend into a run off tunnel underneath the warehouse in search of answers or anything that will point them closer to the Warden.**

Officers Daniels and Azak drop into the run off tunnel.

"Ugh." Daniels says, covering his mouth with his arm. "It smells in here."

"To be expected." Azak says nodding in agreement. "These tunnels run any residual waste or overflow. Which way?"

"I don't… Wait. Check that out." Daniels says pointing his light down the tunnel, revealing deep gouges in the walls. "Looks like something was scratching the walls or something. And look, there're like chunks of metal in the water."

"Anything?" Detective Chellick calls down to them.

"Not yet, sir." Azak calls back up to him. "We found some weird debris and scratches on the walls. We're going to follow them and keep in radio contact. We'll mark our path and turn back when we think we've gone too far. We'll call you if we find anything."

"Roger that, keep me updated." Chellick calls down to them.

Azak nods at Daniels. "Come on, let's go."

"Hang on, check this out." Daniels says picking up a chunk of the debris.

"What is it?" Azak asks shining his light down on it with Daniels.

"If I had to guess, I'd say it's armor plating." Daniels says. "It's layered like the armor the Alliance uses."

"Yeah, but the construction of the primary plates is more like batarian armor." Azak says pointing to the thickest armor layer. "We put our thickest, hardest materials on the top and bottom with a little in between. It's like an armor sandwich."

"Where did it come from?" Daniels asks.

Azak shrugs. "Don't know for sure. But bag it so we can take it back. Forensics can get the rest later."

Daniels nods, dropping it in a small evidence bag and stowing it in his pocket.

Azak starts walking down the tunnel, following the deep gouges in the walls. He pauses when he sees something in one of the gouges.

He walks up to it and tugs it out of the gouge. "Check it out."

"It looks like part of a jacket." Daniels says.

Azak nods. "Yes. There are reports of the Warden wearing a jacket over his armor. Do you think he was attacked down here?"

"Don't say that." Daniels says nervously, looking around the tunnel, dropping another chem light in the water to mark their path. "It's creepy enough down here. What could possibly do this to him?"

Azak shrugs. "Something big. Krogan could I think."

"Maybe, but it'd have to be really big, even for a Krogan…" Daniels says. "Bag it and let's go."

Azak calls Chellick. "Detective, this is Officer Azak in the tunnel. We found a torn up black jacket and the debris appears to be shredded armor plating of some kind. Not much more than rags and bits of scrap at this point but it's here."

"_Good find. It might be the Warden's gear."_ Chellick responds through the comm. _"Good work, keep me updated."_

They take the ripped black fabric and continue on.

"We're going in really deep." Daniels mumbles after a while of walking, dropping another chem light.

"The gouges keep going, but have you noticed that there's more debris?" Azak asks. "We're getting close I think."

They keep walking and Daniels points his light upwards.

"Check it out, the gouges go straight across the ceiling, like something got pushed up there and ground all the way down." Daniels says. "A Krogan couldn't do that. The ceiling is too high."

"There's a logical explanation." Azak says. "Come on."

They reach a t-shaped fork and stop.

There is a dent in the wall and it looks like a lot of the paint got sheared away on the wall. Floating around in the water below the dent is a lot of the debris, some pieces bigger than others. In addition to that, the water appears to have blood in it. A lot of blood in it.

"Is that… blood?" Daniels asks sounding sick.

"I think so…" Azak says shining his light at the water.

"Check this out." Daniels says, walking up to the dent. "The paint got sheared straight off the wall. I've never even heard of that happening on the Citadel. What could do that aside from Keepers?"

"Daniels." Azak says crouching and reaching below the water. He pulls out a bunch of straps that doesn't look like anything at first glance, but on closer inspection it's the Warden's shoulder holster with both of his signature revolvers in it.

"That's pretty significant." Daniels mumbles. "Is that what I think it is?"

Azak nods. "Yes it is. We might get promoted for this. I'm going to call it in."

"Oh!" Daniels gasp grabbing an omni-tool from the water. "Check it out! I think it's his omni-tool!"

"_This is Chellick, go ahead, Officer." _Chellick responds after Azak calls him.

"Detective, we hit the end of the trail." Azak says. "It's unclear which way the Warden went, but we found blood and his revolvers. We also found an omni-tool that might be his. We-"

"Wait check this out!" Daniels shouts suddenly pulling some twisted metal out of the water. Upon closer examination, it's the Warden's helmet.

"We also found his helmet." Azak says excitedly.

"_His weapons? And his omni-tool? And his helmet too? You found them?" _Chellick asks incredulously. _"Outstanding! This will make the case! Come on back if you think there isn't anything left there, Officer."_

"Why would the Warden leave his weapons here?" Daniels asks.

"Maybe he didn't do it by choice." Azak says. "I think maybe he got attacked by something… maybe it even killed him. Maybe this is his blood."

Daniels turns the helmet over in his hands. "It looks like something tore it open."

"Or like someone took a huge can opener to it." Azak says.

"What could do this?" Daniels asks quietly, looking up and down the tunnels nervously.

Azak shrugs. "I don't know. But we should go back. This tunnel is now part of the crime scene. Whether he got out this way or not, it's part of the crime scene."

"Got it." Daniels says. "Better bag that."

Azak nods opening up an evidence bag but he pauses. "What the fuck is that?"

"What?" Daniels asks, nervously.

"That!" Azak says pointing at the handle of one of the revolvers.

It looks like a tiny chunk of meat but it's moving. A lot of blood is dripping from it as well.

"What the fuck?" Daniels mumbles.

The chunk of meat starts moving more erratically and it appears to start growing.

"What the fuck?!" Daniels shouts in alarm as thin red tendrils start snaking out of the chunk of meat. "Drop it, drop it!"

Azak flinches away from the branching red tendrils reaching from the growing chunk of meat. They wiggle and reach, branching a little, like vines climbing a trunk. Azak yelps as they grow longer yet and he drops the holster and the revolvers into the water. The water starts staining red with blood and bubbles start forming.

"This is Officer Azak and Daniels." Azak says panicking, turning on his comm. "There's something… Something happening! I don't know, I… By the Pillars…"

Azak and Daniels back away as more and more of the tendrils snake out of the water, reaching up, branching to create more or reach out to each other. They seem to be forming some kind of cylindrical structure as well and in the middle of it they see a strange thin white thing growing like a tree trunk in fast motion, wiggling a little and bubbling and frothing to grow taller and thicker.

"What the shit, what the shit." Daniels mumbles in absolute fear.

Suddenly it becomes rather apparent what this thing is as the red tendrils start being covered by dark red flaps with finger like appendages at the ends slap over the caging tendrils and crawl forwards like hands desperately dragging a dying man to his salvation, overlapping and wiggling wildly before attaching to the structure it becomes obvious they're muscle strands. Pale flesh starts crawling up the structure like someone pulling a long glove up their forearm… But that's just what this is. It's an arm, growing rapidly before their eyes.

The arm is nearly completed, and it starts growing something from its shoulder, looking bizarrely like an umbrella of sorts. The thing continues to grow and it becomes obvious that it's a chest cavity, veins, arteries and bones growing first, followed then by organs, muscles and meat and then finally flesh. It keeps reaching, growing immaculately into a torso and it starts reaching up the neck, vertebrae appearing out of the torso like some macabre snake. A skull starts growing from its end and from part of the meat coming off its neck. The top half of the skull becomes fully formed and the jaw bone is formed attached to some of the meat forming off the neck. They scrape and knock together a bit before the jawbone snaps into place with a very loud sickening crack. The skull forms together seamlessly and its maw stretches open and a noise that a drowning person would make as they desperately try to take a final breath of air with its lungs still full of water. Just a desperate gurgling retching sounds. The sounds coming from this thing are even worse than watching it.

It makes meaty squelching noises, water is splashed around by its forming pelvis, making this thing look like some kind of partially formed fetus, or terrifying fish, its right arm the only fully formed thing of its body shakes violently as it tries to support its body. Everything else just meat, bones or even less, just veins defying gravity and physics and biology and everything as they snake and branch out to create another limb or something else. It makes bone cracking noises and as its chest cavity completes itself, the two officers are treated to the sight of its lungs, heart and organs forming.

The thing makes a horrible noise, like a cry or a death rattle, its lungs starting to function. Still without a face, it just opens and closes its mandibles, making terrifying noises. They see a tongue start flopping around in its mouth and some blood pours out of its eye sockets and its sinus cavity as a nose, ears and eyes start forming.

It makes a noise like panting but painful. "AGH! AGH! AGH! AGH!"

They can hear every beat of its new heart, sounding like it's going at a million miles an hour. And steam wafts off of this creature in huge amounts. It keeps making that horrible retching panting noise. Its legs are growing now and its torso is starting to be covered with skin.

Azak gapes at the thing with absolute terror when a sudden loud noise makes his heart leap up into his throat. He looks at Daniels, his weapon pointed at the horror.

Daniels fires a few more times.

The abomination jerks as every round hits it but they rounds are spat back out almost immediately after their pierce his growing flesh.

Its head starts being covered in flesh and its inhuman retching starts becoming more human. Pained grunting as it hunches over, it's thrashing legs becoming fully formed now, his process seeming to speed up quickly. Within a few seconds, a fully formed human is before them and when the hair sprouting from the top of his head stops growing, the thing slumps down in to the water.

Azak takes a very nervous step forward after several painful seconds.

But the thing rises fast as bolt of lightning, a revolver in each hand and naked as the day he was born.

The two C-Sec officers point their weapons at him shakily.

"Sorry, guys." The abomination says. "But I can't be stopped."

The last thing either of them see is a flash of light from the muzzle of his revolvers.

**##########################################################**

**I move down the tunnel as quickly as I can. I took my shoulder holster and revolvers and my omni-tool as well as one of their uniforms. I also made sure to take my messed up helmet though I don't think the armor bits will help out C-Sec much so I leave all of those. I don't know what they'll think when they find those two in the tunnel but I don't really care. I need to get back to the Warehouse. I need to have a word with Discharge**

He knew my name. Brother Blood knew my name was Jack. He knew I was more than I appeared to be. A meta. How else could he know this? It must have been Discharge.

I told Discharge he shouldn't have gone looking for other meta-humans and he went and found a really powerful, really dangerous one. And if I'm going to kill him, I'm going to need help. I am simply not powerful enough. Well… Maybe that's not really true. I suppose theoretically, I could hunt him down until I killed him or trap him with me in a situation that would kill us both but I would survive.

For instance, once I was fighting a meta with the ability to manipulate his own density. So he could be as solid as bedrock and steel or as light as a feather. I drew him to the coast under the pretense of 'finishing things.' He found me in a building and I blew it up with both of us in it. I grabbed him and wouldn't let go until we fell into the harbor and I still held on until I knew he was dead. And then I let myself die.

I mean, Brother Blood deconstructed me on the molecular level. I guess I grew back from a molecule, or maybe Brother Blood accidentally ate a chunk off me and forgot about it. Who knows?

I hurry down the dark tunnel, my omni-tool lighting my way. I pause for a second and check the map again. I'm close to a chute, I just need to find a way out of this tunnel.

I hurry forward again and quickly find a ladder and move the large cover out of the way. I climb it and poke my head out. Nobody in sight.

I leave the tunnel and push the cover back into place. I glance around. There sure is a lot of debris. Looks like those riots got way more out of hand than I thought. I turn around to head towards the chute but pause, shocked by what I see. Hanging from the arm of a statue is a lynched turian. But I see that the words 'Dirty Cop' are cut into his chest, sloppily and some cuts have been made over his eyes.

I look at it in curiosity. Interesting. People are emulating my actions. I didn't expect that. Fascinating. I wonder what else I can get them to do.

I shrug it off and head to the chute.

After a short trip, I arrive at the Warehouse. I ride the lift down and walk through the yard and step inside.

"Jack!" Senna says sounding relieved. "You're alright! I was worried after I lost contact with you!"

"Why are you wearing a C-Sec uniform?" Vaas asks. "Where's your armor?"

"I need to talk to Discharge." I say.

Turok nods. "He's over there. Been waiting for you."

"Oh! And wait until you see what he brought home!" Draco says with a laugh of excitement.

I wave the little shit off and walk over to Discharge.

He looks up at me, exhaustion in his eyes. "There you are, Warden. I was worried that something might have happened."

"Something did happen." I say. "And you know what happened. Brother Blood paid me a visit."

Discharge sighs loudly. "What happened?"

"He killed me." I say. "But he didn't succeed in doing so permanently. He ripped me apart molecule by molecule."

"Wow that sounds painful." Discharge mumbles.

"Quite. Where is he, Discharge?" I ask with a frown. "He can't live. Does he know where this place is?"

"I'm sorry." Discharge groans, dropping his head in his hands. "I don't know where his is anymore. And yes I think he knows where this place is."

I sigh angrily drawing a revolver. "You made a severe mistake."

"I know." Discharge says looking up at me. "I have nowhere else to go. C-Sec is looking for me. And for my friend."

"Friend? Did you bring somebody else here?" I ask pointing the revolver at his head.

"I'm sorry." Discharge groans again getting to his feet slowly. "I didn't want to have to, but she needs our help, Warden."

"You're too good for your own good." I say turning the safety off. "Trying to help people is only going to get you killed. Who is she? Is she a meta?"

"When you see her you'll understand." Discharge says looking up at me again, not afraid of the weapon in his face.

"Where is she?" I ask.

Discharge points at the office and control room way up at the top of the Warehouse. "There. She likes to roost."

I frown at him, holster my weapon and walk by him, heading up the stairs and across the rickety walkway to the office. I could kill him for what he did. But his friend won't trust me and probably attack me on sight. And if it is what I think it is, then it could be a problem. Also I might need his help to kill Blood. I look at the door and pause to listen first. I hear low humming.

My frown deepens and I push the door open. I step inside and shut the door behind me, looking at the meta-human before me.

She stares at me with big dark eyes and stays frozen in place, silent now.

She is quite the specimen of a Gamma meta-human, isn't she? Beautiful, in a taboo way. Doesn't help that she's isn't wearing clothing that leaves little to the imagination. But the fact that she needs to wear clothing at all is an indication of human like sexual organs and accessories and some sense of modesty.

I blink at her.

"You're Jack?" She asks nervously.

I nod slowly.

"You don't look like I thought you would." She says sounding nervous.

"Name?" I ask.

"What?" She asks with a frown as I walk around her and sit at the desk in the office, taking care not to step on her long tail, knowing also that it could probably pierce my dense skull in the blink of an eye.

"What's your name?" I ask again.

"Oh! My name is Mercedes Laurent. I prefer Mercy." She says with a graceful curtsy.

"You're old for a Gamma. Most Gamma's don't live past early childhood and most Omegas are killed at birth." I say.

She nods, nervously playing with her thick dark hair as she speaks. "Yes, I was a unique case. My parents were both Epsilon meta-humans. My mother died shortly after birth and my father was killed when I was young. I lived on my own and thrived in the very consistently wonderful climate on the Côte d'Azur or as you Americans call it, the French Riviera."

"I'm not an American." I say with a slow shake of my head. "And I could tell that you're French by your accent."

"Excuse me." She says. "I assumed by your accent that you're American. And you can recognize my accent? Have you been to France?"

"I have." I say with a slow nod. "And if you're curious, yes, the French Riviera also."

To this, she perks up. "You have? When?!"

"It must have been… 100… 120 years ago I think? Back when I was just wandering." I say with a shrug. "My memory of things usually gets pretty fuzzy after a couple of decades."

"I forgot that you're immortal." Mercy says. "I think that makes you an Alpha."

I shrug again. "I don't know. I'm deathless. That's something I guess."

"Have you ever met anybody else who's an immortal?" She asks.

I shake my head. "No. I knew somebody who had power over life and death once. I asked him if he could kill me and keep me dead. He said that he could try, and that he could technically keep me dead without me regenerating. But as soon as he died himself, he wasn't sure what would happen. He killed me, and he kept me dead until I rotted away to nothing more than a skeleton. When I came back to life, it had been several weeks. That was the longest that I ever stayed dead."

"It is fascinating, that you die, and even though your cells decompose, you still come back to life. What do you think would happen if you were dead for decades, until you turned to dust?" She asks.

"Well, I have a problem with another meta-human. His name is Brother Blood." I say.

She frowns. "I know him. He was the one who found me and took me to Desmond."

I nod. "Right, well, he killed me. He deconstructed me at the molecular level. So I think I may have regenerated from a cluster of a couple of molecules. So, at least at the molecular level, I can regenerate. I don't know about the atomic level. I have a theory that I grow back from whatever the largest part of me is at the time of my regeneration. How my cells which are formed of molecules and atoms know this is beyond me. I don't know how it works. I've been incinerated to ashes and came back from that before. But like I said, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense in my opinion."

"When it comes to metas, nothing really makes sense." Mercy says. "I mean, how did _I _turn out this way?"

"Which reminds me, I'm curious, and I apologize for stereotyping, but can you breathe fire?" I ask with eyebrows raised.

Mercy sighs and takes a breath and her chest glows with internal flame. "Yes."

"Perfect." I say with a smile. "I'm going to need your help."

"What with?" Mercy asks with a frown.

"Come with me down to Discharge and we'll talk." I say. "I need to talk to him about this as well."

She nods and follows me out of the office. I start walking down the walkway but I feel her hands slip under my armpits.

I look down at her hands with a frown, believing she's hugging me from behind. But a second later, I am dragged skyward and we fall off the walkway. I yelp in shock as we fall for a second. My stomach lurches as she beats her wings powerfully, slowing the descent considerably. She periodically flaps her large draconian wings to keep her airborne but maintain a slow descent. A few seconds later, we land next to Discharge.

He looks up at us. "Hi."

I shake off my feeling of weightlessness and frown at Mercy. "You could have warned me first."

She just shrugs. "What did you want to talk to us about?"

I fold my arms and decide to get right to business. "Brother Blood needs to be taken care of. Not just for justice reasons, but also because he considers me an enemy. But he is too powerful for me to kill on my own. I need help from the both of you."

Mercy and Discharge both frown.

"What can we do to help?" Discharge asks. "Brother Blood is far more powerful than all three of us."

"Yes, I know." I say. "But he's not more powerful than the three of us together. But strategy and technique is absolutely key. I can't harm him unless he is in his solid form and he seems to be able to alter his state of matter nearly instantly, faster than I can pull a trigger. I need a few seconds where's too focused on other things so I can end him and that's all."

"What can we do against him?" Mercy asks with a shrug. "We can't hurt him either."

"That's not true actually." I say. "Mercy, your flame breath can undoubtedly consume his molecules when he's in his gaseous form, no doubt harming him. And Discharge, your electricity can affect him in his liquid form. If not harm him directly by damaging his molecules, your electricity might cause him to lose control of his molecules for a few vital seconds. If I'm correct, his control over his molecules relies on a photonic web, in which all of his molecules exist. Basically his consciousness doesn't exist within the cloud as a whole but within this web of energy that binds his molecules together. This web can undoubtedly span a large distance. But I believe that by applying energy, his photonic web might become unstable and some or many of his molecules might fall out of the web, harming him further. And based on what I've seen of him, he's still finite. Though he can increase his size when he transforms into a liquid or gas it's always the same amount. Telling me that if we consume enough of his molecules or cause him to loose enough of them, he will be injured. It will require incredible diligence from the both of you. But I can distract him, and he believes me to be dead, so at least we have the element of surprise."

"What if we don't want to kill him?" Mercy asks with a nervous look.

"I don't see why you wouldn't want to." I say with a shrug. "According to him, he mercilessly kills meta-humans. Some, innocent. But, if you don't want to participate I'll find somebody else to help me, or find another way to dispose of him. But if you walk away from this, you're walking away from me. And when you walk away from me, that bridge is burned. I won't help you when you need me. I don't know if you understand what I do, most people don't after all. However, I do not do what I do to help people. I do what I do to eliminate bad people. If I see a man starving in the street, I will not go out of my way to feed him, unless he can help me find the men or women whom I am looking for. If he has done wrong himself, I will kill him too. And if you're curious of how that helps you, frankly it doesn't. It just keeps you off my bad list."

Mercy stares at me wide eyed. She glances at Discharge, who is looking at her, before looking back at me.

"Okay." She says. "I will help you."

Discharge looks at me. "It wasn't even a question, Warden. He needs to go."

I nod. "Okay then. I'm going to speak to Vaas. I need new armor."

I leave them and walk over to Vaas.

Vaas glances at me. "Where is my armor, Jack?"

"In about 2,000 pieces in a run off tunnel under a warehouse." I say. "A meta-human sheared it off."

Vaas groans and presses his face into his hands. "Fuck! Ok! Let's see what I can do…"

Vaas takes me to the corner of the Warehouse that he's claimed for himself.

I frown at his multitude of high tech equipment. "Where have you been getting these things?"

"Calling in favors mostly." Vaas says. "Having Discharge pick up the deliveries. I kept everything low key, and I can put something together for you. Do you want it the same as the last armor?"

I shrug. "The last armor was good at taking bullets, and it made me much stronger. But it restricted my movement a little. I don't care so much about the bullets. As long as they slow the bullets down a bit, I can take them. I'm tough enough as it is. I liked the extra strength though, not like I can get much stronger anyways. But it never hurts, you know? And I never used that radiation shield, so I mean, I'm not sure if it's one hundred percent necessary. I liked being able to wear it under a jacket, but the all black everything was a bit conspicuous in my opinion. Subtlety isn't much of a priority for me anymore. I do want to have a larger armament capability though, my two revolvers are good, but not enough sometimes."

Vaas nods along. "Right. Overall look pretty much the same?"

I shrug. "I don't care so much. I want the chevron the same. I would like a simpler helmet. That last one was cool and convenient, but I'm not a complex person, I want something less detailed and less likely to get ripped to pieces off my head."

Vaas nods slowly. "Okay. I'll get to work on that. I'll have something for you by the end of the day."

I nod. "Okay. I'm going to go do some reconnaissance in the meantime, find out what this Brother Blood does day to day."

**##########################################################**

**. . .**

Mercy watches Jack walk away and then looks at her friend Desmond. "I do not want to kill anybody."

Desmond shakes his head. "Me neither. But it's what Jack wants."

Mercy shakes her head. "If you don't then why did you agree to help him so quickly? Why is _he _so important?"

"Did you speak with him privately?" Desmond asks sitting on a crate.

Mercy nods and shrugs. "Yes, so?"

"Then you know what I mean when I say that he's not like normal people." Desmond says.

"Well… even if I didn't know he was an immortal, I'd know there was something about him that just makes me uneasy." Mercy says, sitting next to Desmond. "It's like he knows everything about you just by looking at you with those… infinite eyes of his. He has a way of just looking at you like a tool he might use, and that might anger some people; but he looks at you as more than a tool, but not as a person at the same time. He's… terrifying. It's so clear that he's far, far more intelligent than he lets on."

"You don't want to be on his bad side." Desmond says. "If you think about it, he probably thinks that people are so pointlessly temporary. We die and we stay dead. He's the most permanent thing in the universe at this point. I want to show him that I'm useful and that I should stick around. So this way, when I need help he'll help me."

Mercy nods. "That makes sense. But I still don't want to kill anybody."

"I wish I didn't have to, but Brother Blood is too dangerous to be left alive. He needs to go, we both know that." Desmond says.

Mercy nods slowly. "I've never killed anyone before… I've hurt people, bad people, but never killed."

"I have a feeling that you won't be the one doing the killing." Desmond says looking at Jack from a distance away. "And neither will I."

Mercy frowns at Jack. "He frightens me."

"Good. Me too." Desmond says. "I need to go look for somebody. I'll be back soon."

"Who?" Mercy asks.

"Another meta… Brother Blood said that he'd found another meta-human." Desmond says, getting to his feet. "I need to find him."

"You should change your clothes at least." Mercy says. "Maybe cut your hair?"

Desmond frowns and runs his hand through his hair. "My hair?"

"Yes, it's fairly recognizable." Mercy says with a frown.

"But… I like my hair." Desmond says tugging on a particularly long lock of his black hair, which hangs in a loose, high ponytail.

Mercy smirks at him. "Don't be such a baby, Desmond. I'll cut my hair too if it makes you feel better."

Desmond looks perplexed. "No you won't. Girls hate cutting their hair."

Mercy puts her hands on her hips. "I don't see the big deal. It's just hair."

Desmond frowns. "Okay. You cut mine, and I'll cut yours."

Mercy grins. "Let's do it."

**##########################################################**

**The day comes to a close, one of the longest since the Citadel has been discovered. The citizens of the Citadel, slowly go about their day and return to their homes, trying to forget the events of the previous night. Returning to the Warehouse I feel like we're ready to begin...**

Walking into the Warehouse, I see Mercy's large wings as she works on something at a table, her back turned to me. I need to go talk to her about Brother Blood.

I walk over to Mercy and frown at her as she turns around to look at me, what I was currently thinking of thrown completely out of my mind. "What happened to all your hair?"

She smiles at me. "Desmond was being a baby about cutting his hair, so I let him cut mine!"

"It's… so short." I say, staring at it.

She blushes slightly and moves her hands as if to play with her hair but there is nothing there so she just fiddles with her hands in front of her chest. "So! Desmond messed up because of my horns so he had to make it shorter. It's not ugly is it?"

"I didn't say it was ugly." I say raising an eyebrow. "Just that it's short."

Her hair, which used to fall in long, thick black tresses down her back, now sits as little more than a messy boyish bedhead, with a sloppily layered cut on top, and shaved sloppily almost all the way to the skin on the sides and back. I glance over at Desmond, who has his hair cut as well, but in a much more stylish, less fucked up way. His hair, which used to be a wavy dark curtain around his head, now is a neat warrior pony tail, the sides cut short and faded, with the top trimmed down and pulled back into a braid that just touches the back of his head. He still does have his bangs parted messily to the sides, untouched so it seems to frame his face with wavy locks of dark hair.

"So it's ugly." Mercy says, completing my thought.

I frown. "I didn't say it was ugly."

"But it is." She mumbles.

"Well… You definitely did a better job than he did." I say, raising an eyebrow.

Mercy just frowns bashfully, looks at the floor and blushes.

I frown, realizing I've hurt her feelings. "I mean... It suits you."

She looks up at me, large eyes looking wet with embarrassment.

"Yeah, it's... it's actually really cute." I say, with a forced smirk.

She smiles bashfully and blushes a little, looking back down. Did I seriously just give more than zero fucks about someone's feelings? What the hell is this place doing to you Jack?

"Jack." I hear Vass say from behind me. "I have something together for you."

Vaas leads me over to his work station where a mannequin sporting my new armor stands.

I nod appreciatively, grinning. "You work fast, Vaas."

He shrugs. "I try. So let me explain to you some key differences here. Your armor is rudimentarily the same. A major difference is that the size of the plates is increased. Not in thickness mind you, but in surface area. Where there used to be more pieces, I put them together into one. Your chest plate used to be like 8 separate pieces, now it's just 3: Back, sides, and chest. Your abdominal armor is a bit more complex but still less pieces than the original. The reason for that is so your armor doesn't sheer away quite as easily. Less places to fuse, less chance of failure. Next, notice the texture of the plates is different. I added a reactive armor layer to the very front. Notice they look like millions of really tiny pyramids? That's because they are. Each prism is filled with a tiny amount of explosive shape charge. It'll help protect you from things like explosions a bit better, and it could provide some defense for yourself if you start taking blows to the body in a hand to hand fight. The explosives could react and shoot the prisms at your enemy. Your microfabricators will replenish the prisms, but your shields aren't quite as strong now. I put some more complete leg armor pieces together, since you don't care so much about subtlety anymore, and since people are gearing up more, according to the news. It'll look less suspicious than actually putting armor over pants. But I would still recommend pants seeing as how the plate carrier is a little snug and there's no codpiece or buttocks plates."

I look at my armor. The chest plate is a bit less bulky looking, but also stiffer looking. The arms are pretty much the same. The leg armor is totally different, now that it's its own thing. It has full greaves to protect my lower legs and knees from attacks from all angles. The thigh armor is a large, thick single plate of armor that protects the front heavily with a large thick plate, where the sides, back and insides of my thighs are protected with thinner armor that attaches to the large plate on the front. The helmet is drastically different as well. Instead of the multi-pieced lion-like visage, it's a much more simple head shape, not much detail besides a line that defines where the jaw portion and the face portion separate, and a line directly up the middle of the featureless face portion. The eyes are dark pockets that give off an angry aesthetic due to the heavy brow and shape of the eyes.

"Is it ready for me to put on?" I ask.

Vaas nods. "Go on."

I put my newly made armor on slowly, putting on the same plate carrier suit, pants and boots and then putting the armor on.

Like the first time I feel rigid and stiff as a board. I take the helmet and turn it around in my hands. Vaas uses his omni-tool to open it for me, the face portion sliding up and then apart, while the jaw separates into three pieces, each mandible and the chin guard.

I stick my head into the helmet and let Vaas close it around my head, snapping the helmet shut. I feel my helmet connect to the spine on the back of the armor before my armor starts moving me around and calibrating me. After a few moments, I am freed and I shake off my limbs.

Vaas hands me a belt identical to my old one without the leg pouch attachment. I clip it around my waist and my armor lights up with ghostly green lights. Vaas then hands me two leg holsters.

"For your revolvers. You wanted a bigger arsenal, so I repurposed the shoulder holster to carry weapons on your back. The holsters for your revolvers I took off and added to some leg holsters." Vaas explains.

I shrug and attach the leg holsters to my thighs before clipping them to my belt. I then holster my revolvers and put the shoulder holster on.

"One last thing." Vaas says presenting me a rich chocolate brown leather moto jacket. "Didn't have time to make you anything like the old one, here's something the store guy called 'vintage.'"

I grin and put the jacket on over my armor. "Nice jacket… Hm. My voice changer is a little untuned Vaas, think you can make it the same as before?"

He nods and starts fiddling with his omni-tool. "Yeah give me two seconds."

"Testing. Testing." I say. "There we go. Now if you don't mind…"

"Hold on." Vaas says. "I have something for your two compatriots as well."

"What?" I ask perplexed.

Vaas rolls two more mannequins with two more sets of armor on them.

"What the fuck?" I say in surprise. "How did you do all this in a day?"

Vaas shrugs. "I'm fucking awesome."

"Okay." I say turning around to look at Discharge and Mercy. "Guys come over here."

They do so and frown at their armors. But shrug it off and go separate ways to change into their new armors. After a few moments Discharge comes out staring at his hands.

His armor is very similar to mine, except much lighter. Being of a much slimmer build, more of a runner or swimmer's physique, he looks a lot less wide than I do. His armor is also not designed to be hidden underneath anything so it doesn't shy off from any armor on his upper body. It has a wide collar that stands up to protect his neck. His chest and abdomen are armored with a slim not bulky chest plate and his arms have armor similar to mine, but with more slender bracers. His gloves also do not cover his palms, curiously . His legs are armored more heavily than mine and aren't designed to be worn over clothing. His helmet isn't really a helmet at all but more of a ballistic mask, covering his forehead, temples, eyes, nose and cheeks. And the shape of the mask gives him a very bird-like appearance. His armor is lit with electric blue lights, appropriately.

"Jack, look how fucking badass I look." Discharge says with a grin on his exposed mouth. "I look like a mother fucking superhero. And I feel so strong!"

"Your armor enhances your endurance and strength, like Jack's." Vaas says. "Difference is that yours is more suited for stealth, as opposed to Jack's which is a real round robin set of armor. Yours also is better insulated so that your electricity powers can't fry the circuitry. And it conducts electricity incredibly well thanks to special metallic fibers that are laced into your suit as well as through your armor. There's also two power sources in your armor. One hydrogen fuel cell and one microfusion battery. The hydrogen cell is the primary source of power for your armor. You may have noticed that the battery is touching your body directly. Draw from the battery or else your armor will lose power and you'll lose the ability to move very well."

"This is so fucking awesome." Discharge says, firing a continuous bolt of lightning into a column for several seconds.

Mercy comes out next. Her armor is clearly optimized for mobility in combat. Her wings and tail are unarmored and unhindered by the armor as well. Her armor is for the most part, simply plates attached to her plate carrier suit, spaced out for maximum mobility. Her chest is protected by a breastplate that honestly amplifies her bust. Her abdomen is protected by several individual plates attached to the suit. Her arms are armored in a similar way to her abdomen. Her legs are protected by slender, but full greaves like Discharge's. She also has slight heels on her boots, for whatever reason. If anything that's almost sexist. Her boots were also modified so the ends of her feet are free so she can use her strong talon tipped foot-claws. Her helmet is almost identical to Discharge's aside the fact that hers actually protects her whole head and her neck but leaves her mouth and cheeks exposed instead of just a mask. Her armor is lit with orange lights.

"Your armor also enhances your strength and endurance, and your armor I made best suited for mobility above all else. Your armor also possesses the strongest kinetic barriers out of the three of you. It'll last a long time and it'll be able to withstand some pretty hardcore firepower, save for the most powerful rifles and high end explosives. Your armor is also entirely flame retardant, but I imagine that you're at least for the most part fire retardant anyways."

Mercy shrugs. "Yes, for the most part. My hair still burns, which is annoying. I'm always running around with singed hairs. This will at least save my eyebrows and head hair. Or what's left of it."

She looks at Discharge who shrugs bashfully.

"Sorry, Mercy. Shit." Discharge mumbles. "I did my best… So why the kickass armor, Jack? What's going on?"

"Well, I didn't plan on making you two armor but seeing as how the both of you are incredibly killable, I'd say it's a good idea." I say. "We're going after Brother Blood. And after we kill him, the three of us need to have a chat."

Mercy nods. "Okay! Let's go!"

Discharge nods too. "Yeah, let's do it. Do we know where he is?"

I nod. "Yes, I've been following him for a good part of the day."

Discharge nods. "And I've been following who he's following. Brother Blood is watching another meta-human."

"Not just any." I say. "Brother Blood believes that this one is an Alpha, but based on what I've seen he's just a Beta. But Brother Blood won't hesitate to jump at the chance at killing this guy."

"Then let's go stop him." Mercy says.


	14. Chapter 14: The Locomotive and Romance

**MASS EFFECT**

**JUDGEMENT**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 14**

**THE LOCOMOTIVE**

**And**

**ROMANCE**

**##########################################################**

**It is February 11, very late in the evening, almost the next day. My two fellow meta-humans are embarking on a rather difficult task. Together we have to figure out how to kill a man, a cloud and a river. And time is in fact, of the essence because it seems that our Brother Blood has found yet another target.**

"Where is he?" I ask peering out of a window.

"There…" Discharge says, pointing towards an area of darkness above us across the street. "In the shadows, he's in his cloud form."

"What's he waiting for?" Mercy asks.

"Him." Discharge says, pointing at a tall, broad man walking out of a store. "He works there."

"An honest job?" I ask.

Mercy laughs. "How benign."

"Benign seems like the wrong word." I mumble.

"He doesn't look so special." Mercy mumbles.

"I couldn't say whether he is or not. I haven't seen him use his powers once." Discharge says.

"Regardless, Blood is targeting him." I say. "And whether he likes it or not, he's going to bait him."

The meta-human in the street looks around before walking down the silent street, all the other stores closed. Blood follows soon after.

Mercy pushes the window open. "Okay, I'm going. High and following behind, like you said, Jack. Discharge, you will move ahead?"

Discharge nods. "I'll go far ahead to wait for Blood to change and attack from above."

"I'll keep him out of the air once the trap has sprung." Mercy says. "Or I'll try."

"You'll do fine." I say. "I'm getting to the ground."

Discharge pulls himself out of the window and I watch him start running along the wall, magnetizing himself to it. He moves to the roof and vanishes from sight. Mercy leaps out a few seconds later, falling out of view before a dark blur flashes by, sailing up high. I watch her gain a fair amount of altitude before leveling off, high above Blood and the buildings. I notice she drops a little bit before leveling off again.

_"There's no air high up above the ground." _I hear Mercy say. _"So I can't fly for long or use my fire breath up there."_

I nod up at her. "That's okay. Just try to stay out of sight for now. Don't let him take you too high."

I leap out of the window and land on the ground, the armor taking most of my fall and my dense bones doing their job and not breaking to bits. I start following the meta-human and watch Blood closely.

After a while of following them, Blood makes his move.

The cloud bunches into a large dense ball and a river of blood waterfalls out and into the street, flowing bizarrely in one direction. I see the meta spin around and his eyes widen in shock. Suddenly, the river is bombarded by continuous bolts of whitish blue lightning and the river starts splashing around like normal water would, losing its control. There is also an eerie screaming coming from the river of Blood.

The river suddenly explodes into mist and flies upwards, dispersing into a large cloud. Large pools of blood are left to stain the street red. The cloud starts flying about, searching for the culprit of the lightning and it soon finds Discharge on a rooftop.

I just watch as it swirls up into a frightening tornado of bloody mist, the cone spiraling straight for Discharge. Suddenly the mist is swallowed by a huge swath of flame. The tornado flies through the air, flames spinning through its mass. The tornado slams into the ground dissipating into a man.

Brother Blood is on all fours. He coughs and blood pours from his mouth onto the ground. His flesh is covered with long rough gouges and little chunks of him are missing. No wounds bleed.

I walk forward slowly.

"Brother Blood." I say, drawing my revolver.

He looks back at me and I see little bits of his face are missing, eaten away as if he lost bits of himself when he got attacked. He appears as if he's covered in sores or small wounds.

"I killed you!" He hisses at me.

I laugh. "I told you that you couldn't. You chose not to believe me and look what's happening."

I aim one of my revolvers and shoot at Brother Blood three times, but large parts of his body just fade into a hazy red mist before reforming.

"You won't succeed." Brother Blood growls, getting to his feet. "You can't kill somebody who can't be shot."

I shrug. "I can try."

Suddenly Blood growls and grunts, clutching his body. His body explodes into a mist, flying skyward. Mercy pursues quickly chasing him upwards, her flames blasting out at him.

"Mercy!" I scream at her. "Don't let him get above you!"

Suddenly Brother Blood's mist becomes a huge wave of bloody water that falls straight onto Mercy, her flames instantly getting extinguished. The water surrounds her in a bubble, falling with her to the ground, rendering her helpless while they fall.

"Mercy!" I hear Discharge shout before glowing brightly.

"No!" I shout. "You'll electrocute her too!"

He hesitates and just as Mercy, trapped in the bloody bubble, reaches the ground the water turns into mist and Mercy slams into the ground with the full force of the fall's gravity. The mist flies into the air and surrounds Discharge who gasps and stumbles about. I see the mist disappear, pouring into his mouth, nose and ears. Bet he wished he had a full helmet now.

Discharge, as if being controlled by a puppeteer, walks up to the edge of the building and jumps, falling to the ground and hitting it with great force. The mist pours back out of his mouth and nose before he flies at me.

Fuck, not again. That didn't go so well.

Suddenly, a large mass gets in between me and Brother Blood.

It's the meta-human Blood has been following. He grunts and hunches slightly and a huge wave shaped barrier forms in front of him, steam exploding from the barrier. I hear Blood's mist form howl in pain.

"The heat and steam is doing the same work as the fire!" The meta shouts, his voice filled with strain from maintaining the barrier. "My thermal barrier should slow him down! Get next to me!"

I decide to do as he says. This landmass of a man, quickly grabs my waist and starts running. But not just any running, within a few seconds, the meta has scooped up Discharge and Mercy and is moving down the street at speeds no human has ever achieved naturally. He must be running upwards of 80 or 90 miles per hour when he's finished his acceleration. Shaken madly by his running, I look behind me at Brother Blood, pursuing us at a similar speed in his mist form.

Every step the man takes hits the ground with incredible force, throwing us forward with impossible momentum. The man growls and his skin starts to glow and it's as if his cells are a rocket engine, the ones on his chest creating tiny streaks of fire jets. Suddenly a spearhead shaped energy shield appears in front of us, and the second it is created, steam erupts from it.

The steam is so thick and is getting produced so fast that it fills the street within seconds. I look back at Blood and watch as he seems to struggle to get through the wall of steam. The man skids to a halt and puts the three of us down. He spins around, his barrier fading away just as he stands with his legs back, as if he's about to be hit by a football player and his arms spread out to his sides, palms open.

The steam dissipates and Brother Blood bursts through the fading steam. Just as he does, the man slams both his hands together in a melodramatic clap, but a devastating wave of force is emitted, sending Brother Blood scattering into practically nothingness.

His mist comes back together quickly into a powerful torrent of blood that blasts at the meta out of mid air. The meta throws his hands up, and a thermal barrier is instantly erected in front of him, shaped into a large bowl that catches all of Blood's liquid form. The barrier forms into a complete ball when enough of him is inside. The thermal barrier flashes and Blood appears to thrash violently inside. The barrier eats away at Blood's form until he finally turns back into a human out of desperation. The meta drops the shield the instant he sees Blood turn into a human and he starts falling through the air.

I choose not to waste the opportunity and I draw my revolver, shooting Blood as he falls. I see a spray of blood and he hits the ground, motionless. I don't take the chance, and I walk towards him, shooting him two more times in the body and once in the head, blowing it apart with my powerful weapon. His corpse appears to become hazy and parts of his body turn into a mist that gently wafts into the air, disappearing quickly. Other bits of him melt into liquid blood and what remains stays solid.

I lower my revolver and stow it in my holster.

The meta walks up to me. "You didn't have to kill him."

I nod. "Yes I did. He was trying to kill you, he tried to kill me. And he wasn't going to stop killing innocent people."

"I got the feeling that he was trying to kill me." The meta says, voice higher and less threatening than his appearance would make it seem. "I know who you are."

I look at him.

He's a 6'5" veritable wall of meat. He's put together as if somebody just sculpted slabs of muscle and glued them together on a skeleton. He isn't very cut like me, just large and strong looking. He's got a lean face, with a prominent jaw, a somewhat crooked and flat nose, thin lips, high cheekbones, and gentle eyes and brows. His light brown hair is lazily styled, pushed back away from his face. He's wearing a simple plain white t-shirt, dark well-worn jeans and boots.

"You're the guy running around killing criminals." The meta says. "I can respect that, I suppose. If you don't, who'll stop them, right?"

I nod.

"And you have two metas with you… I kind of thought I was alone... to be honest. I might have preferred that even." The meta says. "I'm guessing, and I know that correlation doesn't equal causation but, I'm assuming that you're a meta too?"

I nod again.

"So she's a dragon girl, he's got electricity powers…" The meta says pointing at each of them. "What can you do?"

I activate my omni-blade and cut my hand. It heals instantly.

"That's handy." He says.

"Only when I don't want to die." I say, causing a silence. "What about you?"

"I was called the Locomotive or the Unstoppable Force by humans, back in the old world." The meta says. "I can create thermal barriers that react with hydrogen dioxide in the air, which is where the steam comes from. The thermal barriers are created by my cells, which I can control to make them create their thermal reaction and to an extent I can manipulate the barriers, like you saw. The barriers are practically impenetrable and they are hotter than magma. In addition to that, I can use the thermal reactions as little rocket boosters that propel me to speeds up to 100 miles per hour, and allow me to exert incredible force. I can also manipulate my own momentum. Once I start moving, I can't be stopped by anything but myself."

"You are exceedingly powerful." I say.

He shrugs. "A powerful Beta is still a Beta. I can't move mountains, but they can't stop me either. So what happens now?"

"Well…" I say looking up at some cameras floating around. "I'd say we need to get out of here again."

Locomotive and I look down the street and spots a group of people running towards us. They aren't C-Sec. Based on the cameras, they're media.

"Take them to these coordinates and I can help you." I say transferring the coordinates to the nearest chute to his omni-tool. "I'll draw them off."

He takes a quick glance at his omni-tool before scooping up Mercy and Discharge again. "I don't trust you yet."

"You don't have the option not to at this point." I say taking flashbangs off my belt. I pull the pins and throw them at the reporters, much to their dismay. "Go!"

Locomotive starts running away and within seconds he's achieved his top speed, crossing hundreds of yards in seconds and disappearing from sight a few seconds later.

I sprint off down an alley, with all of the camera bots pursuing me. I draw my revolvers and shoot a couple of them out of the air before taking off again.

"Wait!" I hear somebody behind me shout. I look behind me and see a thin person sprinting after me. "Stop! I just want to talk!"

I shoot another camera bot and keep on running.

"Please!" I hear the person shout.

I round a few corners, the camera bots still following closely, the persistent person not so much. I holster my weapons and open up my omni-tool. I find a few pre-programmed control hacks on the omni-tool, remnants of Escape18's legacy. I look behind me at the camera bots and use my omni-tool to hack them. I gain control within seconds. I have them follow me for a while before hanging in the air at a four way intersection in the alley network. I spot a dumpster nearby and leap up onto it, using my momentum to jump up against the wall before explosively straightening my legs and launching myself upwards a few more feet to grab onto the edge of the access walkways that hang above most of the alleyways and streets in the Citadel, too high to reach conventionally.

I pull myself up onto the walkway just as my pursuer comes running down the alleyway.

He slows down, looking up at the bots, hanging midair in the middle of the four way intersection. He stops, panting heavily, staring in confusion at the bots. I use my omni-tool to send them all flying off in different directions, a few down each way. When they leave sight, I wipe their data and shut them down.

The pursuer looks around and around, frowning and panting in confusion and defeat.

He's a drell, with a runner's build, with a broad chest and shoulders, thin and not bulky with muscle, a narrow waist and powerful thighs and calves; which explains why he kept up so well. Despite his build, he is wheezing for breath. He coughs a little bit into his hand, his hacks sounding a little phlegmy, before he clears his throat and spits onto the ground. He sighs in defeat but doesn't leave.

I frown at him. He doesn't look like a reporter. I use my omni-tool to scan him discreetly and find that he's not carrying any sort of equipment to record things, nor is his omni-tool very high tech either, using its general settings and not set to record anything.

I decide to see where this is going to lead me.

I shift my weight and slide off the walkway, under the railing and catch myself with one hand to swing my body under the walkway and just behind him. I let go and drop, landing noisily right behind him.

He jumps about two feet into the air and yelps in alarm, scrambling away from me and spinning around in such an uncontrolled manner that he trips over his own feet and onto a pile of garbage.

I slowly rise and stare at him.

"You're the Warden?" He asks after panting for a few seconds. "You don't look the same as in the pictures."

"I like to change it up every once in a while." I respond. "Why are you following me?"

"My name's Durran." He says still a little breathless. "I'm an investigative journalist. I used to work for a small scientific news network that runs online news forums and blogs. Theorems Today. They fired me a couple of days ago. But you and I can help each other."

"In this situation, I think it's more like this: you _need _my help. And I may just benefit from yours." I say. "I think I can get by on my own, Durran. Don't come looking for me again."

"Wait!" He says as I turn to leave. "It's in your best interests to help me!"

"Are you threatening me?" I ask looking at him over my shoulder.

He swallows. "Yes."

I turn around and take a couple of steps towards him.

"I know that you're some sort of mutant." He says.

I pause but don't reveal anything in my body language.

"I know that there are more like you. A lot more." He says. "And I know where to find more of them… If you don't help me, I'll tell everyone the truth…"

"And if I help you?" I ask.

"Then you'll be closer to stopping the Keyzer Cartel." He says.

"How did you know that I'm after them?" I ask.

He blinks. "It's not hard to notice, they've lost more than anyone since you showed up. You're targeting them, and why wouldn't you? They're the biggest name in crime on the Citadel."

I shake my head, drawing my revolver. "I think I'd get by just fine without your 'help.' So I think we're done speaking."

"You can't kill me." He says as I approach him with my revolver pointed squarely at his head.

"Can't I?" I ask.

"No you can't." He says. "I've never killed anybody. And if you kill me, the information I have on you, on all of your 'kind' will be released. You won't ever find it if you kill me. And I won't ever turn it over to you if I'm dead. You'll help me, or your secrets will be everyone's to know."

I pause and holster my revolver. "You're smarter than you look."

"You'll help me?" He asks.

I shake my head. "We'll see."

I start to walk away.

"Wait! How will I contact you?" He asks.

I shake my head and keep walking. "You won't. I'll come find you if I feel the need to."

I walk around the corner and jog to the chute. I take a lot of time to make sure that there's no one following me and that there's nobody in the area before I slip into it and ride it to the Warehouse.

Once I arrive, I take the lift down into the yard and walk into the Warehouse itself, nodding at Draco along the way. He usually stays in the yard, searching through the small piles of debris I left around. Inside, I walk over to Discharge who is seated on a crate with Senna crouched in front of him, dabbing at a head wound with a cloth.

He looks up at me, glassy eyed. "You're back."

I nod. "Blood is dead. Where is our rather powerful friend?"

Discharge gestures towards the upper floor. "Upstairs, tending to Mercy…"

I nod and make my way over there, nodding at Turok to follow me.

"What's up?" He asks.

I look at him. "You're just here to be my backup in case I need it. We're dealing with a rather powerful meta-human. I need you to just watch my back and not say anything."

"I take offense to that." Turok grunts as we head up the stairs.

I shrug it off and walk towards Locomotive who is seated next to a cot with Mercy lying unconscious on it. I wave Turok to stand off to the side in case I need him. I stand next to Locomotive and he looks up at me then down at Mercy.

Mercy makes a small noise and shifts.

"She's quite beautiful." Locomotive says. "The funny thing is, even with all the physical abnormalities… she's still beautiful. The horns, the scales, the wings... They don't deter from her beauty, they simply amplify them. I imagine the kind of person she would've been without the powers, or even with powers that didn't change her appearance. I think that's why she's survived this long."

"Because she's good looking?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Could be. I'd have to ask her. Based on her appearance, she was probably a sex slave of some kind in the Old World."

"That wouldn't surprise me." I reply.

Locomotive sighs. "Yet the sad thing is, that even though she's separated from that old life, she still can't be anybody of significance here because of her appearance. People wonder why appearance has such a cultural and societal significance. People judge the judgment of appearance, yet if they considered putting themselves in the shoes of someone like her… I think they'd understand. But this is all conjecture, for all I know she grew up in a comfortable home without a trouble in the world."

I shrug. "Could be."

"This is a good place you have." Locomotive says looking around the Warehouse. "You could house an army here."

I chuckle. "Not my intention."

"Then what is your intention?" Locomotive asks looking at me.

I sigh. "Make a difference, no matter how long it takes or how many times it kills me."

"Pardon?" Locomotive asks with a frown.

"Oh, in addition to the healing, I can't die." I say. "Well, I can. But I don't stay dead."

"That's useful." Locomotive says with an approving nod. "So how old are you?"

"Too old." I reply. "More than 2 centuries."

"Wow." He says with a small laugh. "I've never spoken to somebody that old."

"Not many people have; those that do don't usually live long enough to think about it either." I say. "So what's your real name?"

"Collin." He says. "The rest of it is pretty irrelevant. But yeah, Collin is my name. I'm from the Texas-New Mexico region. The terrain was pretty ideal for my powers. I used to be a bounty hunter, then I started work as a construction man in a city that was being rebuilt in the Nevada region. My enhanced strength, stature and thermal abilities really helped with metal working. Then I wound up here."

"What have you been doing here?" I ask.

He is quiet, thoughtful for a second. "Figuring shit out. I mean, it's a far cry from the old world. But I had some practical skills. I started doing honest work, haven't even used my powers until this evening."

"Honest work?" I ask.

"I restock shelves and move boxes at a grocery store." He says with a laugh. "It doesn't pay too well, and I've been sleeping in parks… but honestly I don't see how it's any different from camping out in the old world. The difference is that I don't have to worry about hunters, or animals, or mutated animals, or bandits or mutated hunters and bandits. Or anything really."

I shrug. "Fair enough."

"You on the other hand… I've seen you on the news. You've been busy to say the least. Here I am, shelf stocker in a grocery store and here you are, apocryphal vigilante with a secret lair and crack team of specialists. You garner results. That's for sure." Collin jokes.

"If anything they're squatters." I say looking down at all of the people I've accumulated over the last few months. "I mean, Senna and Vaas are useful so I like having them around. Draco is a fucking thorn in my side. Desmond is a good errand boy I suppose. Loyal and skilled at the very least. Mercy is brand new so I don't know what use she's going to be… Turok is... funny, and he's been a help getting the place fixed up so far. But he's recuperating from some serious injuries. Should be okay to go in a week or two. But for the most part, all of these people are stuck here because they can't leave. They're being hunted by the Keyzer Cartel, C-Sec or both."

Collin nods slowly. "I see… You'd be alone if you could then?"

"I didn't say that." I say. "I'm not motivated by helping them. And I won't say they all aren't useful to some degree. I need their help to take down the Keyzer Cartel quickly."

"Forgive me for pointing out incongruities, but since when did doing things quickly become a priority for an immortal?" Collin asks looking up at me.

I look down at him. "I suppose I need it done sooner because of the scale of things. The Cartel is huge. C-Sec is huge. The galaxy is huge. I just don't want to be a thousand years old by the time I've seen it all. At that point I'll have missed most of it."

He shrugs. "Fair enough. So what happens now?"

I shrug. "Well. That's really up to you. You can stay, I wouldn't have a problem with that. Or you can go, and take your chances out there."

"I worry some of those camera bots may have caught a glimpse of me." He says. "Even if they're destroyed, their data must be backed up somehow. If it's alright with you, I'll stay and help however I can."

I nod. "Good to have you here. I'm sure you'll be useful."

"So what now then?" Collin the Locomotive asks.

I shrug. "Anything… Myself? I have stuff to do."

"Right… So do I get to see what you look like or what?" He asks.

"I suppose." I say, my helmet collapsing away from my head.

He stares for a while and nods. "Alright. I'll see you around I suppose."

I leave. He's a strange character.

I take my armor off before I leave the Warehouse and leave in plain clothes. I go home and take a shower and climb into bed. It doesn't take me long to drift into sleep.

In my dream, I'm sitting on the summit of a mountain. The mountain is the highest around by a lot, nothing but other smaller snowy mountains for miles in every direction. For a majority of that dream I'm just sitting there. Then I feel a rumbling in the ground and I watch a nearby mountain, almost as tall as my mountain, explode, shooting ash and fire into the sky.

**##########################################################**

**. . . . **

My eyes slowly open. Dull light pours into my apartment from the nebula, like always. I take a deep breath and turn over in my bed.

_Someone I don't expect. Emma, the girl from the club all that time ago. She smiles at me and sits up a little, sheets slipping away, her body coming into view. The way the light runs over her curves, the shadows cast over her form, it sends my blood rushing through my veins. Red runs through my vision and it's like I go blind for a second. My heart starts pounding as my eyes run up and down her body. She smiles wider and leans over on top of me, pushing me down to the bed with her body. Her face presses against mine and our lips meet, sending electricity shooting to my brain and it makes my teeth tingle and my tongue feel really sensitive. Her hand slips down my stomach and underneath the covers, greeting a regular morning surprise. She stops the kiss and giggles._

_Fuck._

I jolt and look around. Still in bed. Alone too. Fuck. That was weird. I must have fallen asleep again or something. I usually don't have dreams like that I swear. I check the time on my omni-tool. Still morning.

I sigh out of my nose and fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Fuck. I need a cold shower.

But I just let my head fall back to the bed and I keep staring at the ceiling.

I hear a giggle.

_I look back down at my feet and watch as Kim rises from the foot of the bed and crawls on top of me. She stops about halfway up my body and pulls the covers down. I shift and fidget uncontrollably as she lets her body leave pressure on me and pushes her hair out of her face with her hand and lays kisses and gentle bites down my torso. Lower, lower and lower. Getting slower as she goes._

_Fuck._

I jolt again as I sit up. Did I fall back to sleep? Fuck, what's up with me today? Cold shower, very, very cold shower.

I do that and get dressed.

Okay. Let's hope my day can at least go semi-normally.

I go to the chute and head to the Warehouse. Once inside, I look around for somebody. Nobody in sight.

"Hello? Anybody here?" I call out. Oddly, nobody responds. Must all still be asleep? I start walking through and find that I am indeed correct. I head upstairs to the second floor and find that Collin is asleep by Mercy's bedside, except Mercy is not in the cot she was last night. She seems to like that office because it's high up. I'll check there.

I walk down the walkway, feeling strange urges passing through me. My heart feels like it's 10 times its normal size right now.

I get to the door and go to knock but pause because I hear something… No way. I put my ear against the door… Oh. Shit. Well… Shit. That's definitely moaning I'm hearing… I shouldn't. I should just leave.

I turn the door knob and open the door. Mercy's eyes meet mine and I notice a particular lack of other people in here and a particular lack of clothing on Mercy's part.

Oh. My. Well...

Mercy yelps and covers herself with a nearby scrap of clothing.

Shit, I stopped doing that 150 years ago.

Mercy whimpers in shame and covers her face.

Embarrassed I grab the doorknob to leave but feel my heart make a particularly powerful beat and send blood shooting through my veins.

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_FUCK._

I look up at Mercy and she's staring at me, not bashfully anymore. I clench my jaw and see red and close the door behind me as I approach her. I reach the edge of the desk she is sitting on and put my hand on her arm, the other on her leg. I lean in and kiss her. She does not protest, resist or make any move to stop me. The opposite. She reciprocates the kiss. After a few seconds of lip sucking, I feel her open her mouth a little more and I open mine to receive her tongue, meeting hers with mine in as well. Her tongue is really fucking long.

Fuck…

I start gripping her thigh harder as I start kissing her with more passion and fervor. I feel her hands, still holding the cloth to protect some of her decency, move away from her chest and wrap around my torso. Feeling as if the situation is a little unfair, I take her hand and bring it to the hem of my shirt and push it up. She takes over and pushes my shirt up and takes it off for me, our kissing breaking only long enough for it to slip over my head. We kiss for a few more seconds before we both pull away.

I look down at her and marvel at her form. She looks like she was carved from stone, her body is simply perfection. Scales, and claws aside. Speaking of which, while I stare at her body her hands rest on my chest and glide downwards over my stomach, my groin and my thighs. They slide back up and around my torso again. Her claws sink into my back a little as I kiss her again, slapping her thigh and pushing her down flat onto the table as I kiss her, climbing up onto it. I settle next to her and continue to kiss her, my hand beginning its exploration of her body. Gentle caressing up the thigh, the middle of the stomach, along her ribs beneath her breasts, the curve of her bosom, her collar bone, her shoulders, her neck, her shoulder blades, down her spine… just a couple finger tips, gently gliding over the most sensitive parts of her body as we kiss. She starts shivering and fidgeting before too long. I chuckle in enjoyment.

I start stroking her, more tangible movements of my hands, my fingers running through her hair (What's left of it) my hand running up and down her thigh, over her substantial buttocks and along the curve of her back, over her hips and up her side.

When I feel bold enough, my hand runs gently down the center of her abdomen, teases her femoral nerves and the sensitive areas along her hip flexors, making her twitch violently, before my hand pushes her thighs apart. Which she does not resist. The heat and humidity coming off her is incredible, my hand feeling the temperature from several inches away. I run my fingers up and down her inner thigh, making her twitch violently as we kiss.

Suddenly deciding to take a little more control of the situation, I grasp a handful of her inner thigh, making her arch her back, break our kiss and moan. She exposes her long tan neck fully to me as she moans and I dive in, sinking my teeth into her neck, just below her jaw. I don't bite her hard enough to draw blood, but my teeth are sharp and her skin is tough so I bite hard enough to hurt a little. She gasps and moans even louder, grabbing fistfuls of my hair. I think she likes that. I growl quietly and grab her by the hips and drag her pelvis into mine. She grinds, unconsciously.

I drag my teeth down the side of her neck, pressing my body against hers, and I sink my canines back into her neck, just a little above the collar bone. She cries out and arches into me. I move down, my lips just touching her skin, which is soft, supple and so very smooth. I kiss her breast, then take her nipple into my mouth and I start working my tongue in quick large circles, spiraling to the center. She moans and holds my head. I open my mouth wider and gently bite down around her areola. She cries out and grabs fistfuls of my hair. I laugh a little and push her back down, sliding my body further down. My face now inches away from her womanhood, I'm tempted to simply dive in. But I need to keep this teasing up. It's just making it better. I get really close, just a few centimeters away and breath out long and hot, before I pull away and kiss her inner thigh. She moans in protest and I go and kiss the other one. I then open my mouth wide and bite down on her inner thigh. She cries out louder than ever and that's when I go in face first.

"Oh… God…" Mercy moans.

After a few minutes I straighten and settle myself between her legs, wiping my face with my arm and undoing my pants. After I have myself out, Mercy takes me and puts me in herself.

"Oh! Oh fuck!" Mercy cries quietly. I push forward and continue in slowly until our pelvises meet. I draw back out, slowly, but thrust forwards firmly. I keep on, increasing my pace very gradually. We keep on, changing positions every few minutes. She seems to like being on top but I like to take control every once in a while. It's half an hour before I reach my climax. She had several, I think.

I rest for a few seconds, our bodies still locked together, the both of us shaking and sweaty. It very suddenly hits me what we just did and I look up at Mercy. She's looking at me, wide eyed as well.

I awkwardly slide away from her and get to my feet, putting my pants back on.

She sits up, covering her body with her knees.

We're both quiet for a while before we both notice strange noises. I look at her then head to the door, looking outside down at the Warehouse floor.

What I see is so unbelievable that I have to close my eyes for a few seconds, and look again. I look at Mercy then nod her over. Despite her still being naked, she comes over and looks with me.

She covers her mouth with her hand in surprise.

"Mon Dieu!" Mercy says in shock. "What are they doing?!"

I blink. "They're doing what we were just doing…"

"But why did _we _do that too?!" She asks looking at me.

"I don't know I just… felt… like a burning in me. I wanted to. I couldn't help myself." I say.

"Me neither." She says quietly. "Goodness…"

What we are witnessing, exactly, is Discharge, Vaas, and the Locomotive having sex with Senna, all at once.

"This can't be natural." I say. "This kind of thing doesn't _really _happen. Like… What the fuck is going on here?"

Mercy shrugs. "Maybe we've all been drugged."

"Or maybe…" I mumble thinking. "Maybe somebody is doing this to us. We need to leave."

"Oh... Oh no..." Mercy says sounding absolutely inconsolably distraught.

"Bingo! Got! It!" I hear somebody say behind us.

I spin around and face the newcomer who steps out of the office the both of us were just in.

"Ya got me." The man says.

He's a tall thin man with some Asian features. His features are mostly soft but his cheekbones are sharp and defined and his brow is firm and commanding. His eyes are small, almond shaped and oddly enough, pink in color. He has crows feet and forehead lines, telling me he's on in the years. His hair is shaved down short on the sides and back, and jet black but the hair on top of his head is long, swept to the side and dyed ice white. He's wearing a shiny black suit with a pink shirt and a pink tie and very shiny black shoes with silver buckles. He is also wearing pink leather gloves and several silver necklaces as well as a silver tie chain.

"How are you my beautiful friends?" The mysterious man asks.

Mercy steps behind me, covering her nakedness.

"Oh come, come, come now, no need to be shy all of the sudden. It's not like I haven't seen more than what meets the eye anyways." He says with a grin.

"Who are you? How did you find this place?" I ask with a growl.

"My name is Mr. Romeo. I am a businessman. And you led me here!" He says with a laugh.

"Jack… He's a very bad man." Mercy whispers to me. "You need to kill him."

"I always make sure I'm not followed!" I growl. "Now I suggest you leave before I rip you in half."

"Actually you won't be doing anything of the sort." Romeo says with a bark of laughter. "I'm the one in charge here. And I'm the one that's going to be making the demands. You see, you're in possession of something of mine. I'm here to take it back."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I say, glaring at him.

He gestures towards me. "You're standing between me and my property, Mr. Jack Carmine. Mr. Warden."

I look back at Mercy.

"Don't let him take me." Mercy whimpers.

"What the fuck is going on here?" I say.

"Mercedes belongs to me. I'm going to take her back. Come here Mercy." Mr. Romeo says with a smile.

Mercy recedes further behind me.

"I said…" Romeo's sclera get turn jet black, accentuating the pink of his irises. "Come. Here!"

Mercy cries out and I feel Mercy shake violently. With a gasp I spin around and look at Mercy who stumbles forwards towards Romeo, knees touching, and shaking uncontrollably.

"Mercy!" I say, moving to stop her.

"Don't you move a muscle, big boy!" Romeo hisses at me.

I feel an excruciating shock of pain shoot through my head then down my spine, painful enough to drop me to my hands and knees and immobilize me.

Shaking violently, drool leaking out of my mouth, I feel like every nerve in my body is knotting up. All I can do is make strained choking sounds.

"There, there…" Romeo whispers to me. "It'll be over soon. Behave and I'll go easy on you."

My vision wells up as tears start dripping from my eyes.

"And… Up!" Romeo says like he's commanding a dog.

The pain instantly vanishes, but leaves me with a throbbing headache.

I stagger to my feet and support myself against the railing of the walkway. "You're a m-meta…"

"Yes! And it seems so are you!" Romeo says with a small chuckle. "At least based on your brain that is…"

"You can control the brain?" I ask baffled. This is an Alpha.

"Indirectly I suppose that I can." Romeo says, taking a hold of Mercy's arm. "I simply control the brain's chemistry. I can increase or decrease any of those fancy brain chemicals, those steroids, those hormones, those neurotransmitters, all those little glands of yours at will! Say the ones that affect your sex drive, or your pain receptors. You're not actually in any physical pain, I'm just making your body think it is on fire, which for the record is pain but whose keeping track. I'm even able to affect the chemicals that affect your ability to focus, remember or notice things, say a certain handsome somebody standing right next to them as they glide down a mysterious shaft to a mysterious building where they commenced fucking the brains out of my property. Normally I charge out the wall for time with Mercy but yours was entertaining to watch so I'll let it slide."

"You're a fucking monster." I growl at him.

Romeo laughs, literally, maniacally. "Yes! At any rate, off I go! Have a lovey nap, Jack."

Romeo's eyes go black again and my consciousness instantly slips.

**##########################################################**

**I awake some hours later, sore throughout, not sure if what happened, really happened.**

I feel my consciousness fading in and I sit up, only for my body to protest. Pain rips through me and I hiss and grunt in pain, lowing myself to my elbows.

"You're awake." Senna says, seated next to me.

I nod. "Yeah… What exactly happened?"

"Maybe you can tell me." Senna says looking up at me. "I woke up a couple hours ago, naked, covered in all manner of… fluids, in the middle of those three, and you were lying in a pool of blood under the walkway. I guess you fell."

I shake my head. "You're not going to like this."

"What. Happened." Senna says firmly.

"Well… There's another meta-human. His name is Romeo and he was after Mercy. Apparently he owned Mercy in the Old World. At any rate, Romeo is an Alpha. He can manipulate at will another person's brain chemistry, hormones, and neurotransmitters. He seems to get a particular kick out of loading the pleasure and arousal centers of our brains with dopamine to get us hotter than the sun on its period. I think that's what compelled us to act so… completely… strangely. At any rate, he's so powerful that he can alter your brain's chemistry so that you may not notice something in particular. That's how he followed me here. He fucked with my brain and made me not notice him."

"He _owned _Mercy? And he made us all fuck each other?!" Senna growls. "Oh, we're going to fuck this guy up!"

I nod. "Obviously. He's a total psychopath. But it'll be difficult. He's got immense power and we don't even know where he is."

"If we can't see him with our eyes, we can see him with our tech. Cameras don't lie. I'll find him." Senna says, sounding determined.

I nod. "Thanks. Meanwhile, I have to go meet somebody. If we're going to kill somebody who can control the brain, I need someone who can act faster than the brain."

Senna shrugs. "Good luck. I'll get to work on this."

I walk away and go to find Collin who is hunched in a corner like a scared child. "Collin."

He looks at me. "Jack."

"You alright?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Okay I guess… I… Don't remember what happened."

"You fucked Senna in her asari asshole dude." I say, bluntly.

He gives me a sour look. "Don't say it like that."

I shrug. "Regardless. I need your help with something."

"What is it?" He asks.

"Find a news reporter named Durran, he used to work for Theorems Today." I say. "When you find him, let me know. I need his help to find somebody very particular."

"Who?" Collin asks.

I chuckle. "I don't know yet."


	15. Chapter 15: No More Mercy

"**MASS EFFECT**

**JUDGEMENT**

**BOOK ONE**

**WARDEN**

**##########################################################**

**DISCLAIMER: This story contains DARK HUMOR, INTENTIONALLY EXCESSIVLY DESCRIPTIVE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL and DRUG ABUSE CONTENT. It is not intended for immature readers.**

**CHAPTER 15**

**NO MORE MERCY**

**##########################################################**

**It's been a week since Mercy was taken from the Warehouse. I've been hunting Romeo ever since. He's… a very sick man. He needs to die.**

* * *

Romeo is my target. If I can, I'll help Mercy, but who knows where she is? Romeo is smart, but psychotic nonetheless. Mercy was Romeo's whore. And one of his best ones apparently. Even though Mercy brought Romeo a lot of business and was loyal to him, he'll probably see this as a betrayal of some kind. I wouldn't be surprised if he's killed her already. I've seen it too many times with pimps and their prostitutes.

But that's not the point. Whether I find Mercy or not, Romeo's going to die.

But I can't kill him. I can't even get close to him. I've seen my opportunity to strike on several occasions and I've made several attempts but he seems to be able to sense me or something, somehow. Maybe he's locked onto my brain chemistry or something and he can... sniff me out, for lack of a better term.

A few days ago I saw him, asleep in a bed at a brothel. I walked up, silent as can be and was ready to cut his throat when a horrible, paralyzing pain shot through my body. He just opened his eyes and laughed at me.

Laughed.

Two days later, I was at least 50 yards away from him, hidden, out of sight. He stopped to buy some street food and I took aim with my revolver to end him once and for all. From a distance. It wouldn't have been personal like I normally do with criminals who need to suffer but I thought it was safer, less likely for him to sniff me out.

But as I'm aiming at him, he disappears. I scan the area but it turns out he's right behind me. He laughs again and paralyzes me and whispers

"Nice try… But you can't sneak up on me… I always know where you are Jack." And he vanished again. Like into thin air.

But it wasn't actually disappearing. No, he just put my brain on pause long enough for him to re-position himself. I wasn't able to perceive him. To anyone watching me I would have appeared to just aim my weapon at thin air, stone still for several minutes. Romeo is too strong.

And he's too aware of his strength. And he uses it for evil.

He needs to die. He needs to fucking die.

As of right now, I'm standing outside of an apartment. The building itself is in a shady neighborhood. I open my omni-tool and scroll through my pre-programmed hacks until I find a door hack.

I run the program on the apartment door and it opens. I look up and down the hall before stepping inside. The apartment is dark and I see a man in his underwear sitting on the couch. He looks up at me and his eyes go huge.

"Oh fuck. Listen man." He starts getting to his feet, standing on the couch like that'll help somehow, his hands out in front of him. "I only bought some man. I'm not a bad guy I don't kill people man."

I look at the table in front of his couch. Drugs and a lot of different ones. I look around the apartment and see some staining on the walls across from a doorway. Chemical stains. He makes drugs too.

"You make them too." I say, my voice masked by my helmet's voice changer.

"Only for a while man, to make some money." He says, inching backwards. "You know how it is, times are tough."

"I don't believe you." I say, walking over to him. "People who make drugs make them not only to sell them but to be able to say that you made them. Congratulations. You made a toxic substance that is mostly non-lethal, at least not immediately non-lethal, by mixing together an amalgam of narcotics that someone else already created using their own scientific ingenuity in order to create some 'unique' narcotic that upon use gives you a slightly different high than this other pill that other people take. Yeah. Impressive. You're like an amateur baker. Congrats, you made cupcakes and put in food coloring to make it… fun."

"What do you want from me man?" He asks.

"To use your window." I say, standing over him but gesturing towards it.

"That's it?" He asks looking at the window. "Er, yeah go ahead."

I sit down on the couch and look at him. "In a minute, have you ever killed anyone before? Don't lie, I'll know."

He gulps and after a long second or two, sits up and stares at me, turning his body to face the room. "No."

"Liar." I say, drawing my revolver.

"No! Okay yes! Don't kill me!" He screams.

"You should have watched the news more often." I say, standing and pointing the weapon at him. "They keep telling people not to reveal what they've done to me. They tell you not to talk to me at all. Hmph… Funny. Honest men don't feel the need to hide from their truth. Anyway, you should've listened to them when they said not to tell me anything."

I pull the trigger and blow his head and the armrest of his couch apart. I walk over to the window and stare out of it, down at the brothel across the street.

Romeo's in there. But he may be a while. He goes to brothels, legal or not, all the time. He spends about an hour or two in them every time and then leaves. I don't know what he does in there. And I suppose I could assume what he does in brothels. But when he goes to 5 different ones every day, I can't really say for sure what it is he's doing exactly. I mean… 5 times? Everyday? With at least 5 different people? I have to say he must have been to every single whorehouse on the Citadel, and there aren't that many to speak of, honestly. This one seems pretty high class compared to some of the ones he's been to. I haven't gone into any of them but I might go into this one.

I sigh and let my helmet collapse off of my face and I sit down on the couch, on the opposite end of the corpse. I turn on the TV and put my feet up, sighing.

Oh, almost forgot. I sit up and cut his eyes with my omni-blade before sitting back and putting my feet up again.

"_Tonight! On CTVU Late Night! We review eye witness reports of the Warden and his recent activities following the Warden Riots last week. According to official reports from C-Sec, they have received evidence that he was attacked and injured in the runoff tunnels beneath the warehouse where the Warden was broadcasting. Based on the size of the tunnels, the amount he was hurt and the frequency of washouts in the tunnels, C-Sec officials are claiming to be looking for his corpse down there and are conducting searches." _The reporter says. _"However, we have eye witness accounts of a gun-battle just the next day in the Wards as well. Witnesses claim to have seem someone resembling the Warden and 3 other accomplices. Though we also had reporters on the scene who also claim to have seen the Warden himself fleeing the scene of a grisly murder though we were unfortunately not able to acquire video footage due to technical difficulties. In other related news, the Warden's extranet site has broken a record as the most visited extranet site in a 24 hour period, garnering close to one billion page visits on the day of the Warden riots. It averages about a million visits a day, thanks to continual activity brought on by visitors posting videos, images and articles about the Warden which is possible due to the site being mostly open source, with citizens taking it onto themselves to regulate the content on the site. Also in other related news, in the last week there have been a record number of protests on the Wards, some of which have turned into violent riots that have been quickly dispersed by C-Sec riot squads that are patrolling around the clock…"_

Since the day that I killed Alter, the Citadel has been in near chaos. C-Sec on every street corner, protests and mobs on every street. People, even those formally 'upstanding citizens,' are taking to the streets to take advantage of the chaos. Looting, vandalism, destruction, of civil infrastructure mostly… And I really don't care. The chaos is perfect. It's a convenient and heavy fog that I can navigate quite comfortably. A few circumstantial deaths have been reported due to some of the rioting. But most of the death toll from the riots is from lynch mobs hunting down corrupt cops. And C-Sec isn't doing much to stop the deaths of the corrupt cops. In fact, they're doing next to nothing to slow the mobs down, let alone stop them. Some cops are going rogue in order to protect the cops who are getting hunted down. Respectable, but fruitless and an effort in futility. They'll never be able to stop the hundreds if not thousands of angry civilians hell bent on tearing corrupt cops limb from limb. Everything is, honestly, going fantastically well for me. Everything is sorting itself out.

I laugh about that concept quietly to myself.

The only parts of the Citadel that are relatively quiet are the bad neighborhoods. The Red Lights and the hoods and the slums. There aren't many of those places on the Citadel but there are enough for people like Romeo to stay hidden.

I get up from the couch and move back to the window and watch for a while longer before I see Romeo leave, strolling slowly down the street. I wait for him to leave and for him to be gone for quite some time before I leave the apartment and head across the street to the brothel Romeo was in. Inside I come to a winding hallway with red walls and black floor tiles and at every turn there is a mirror, so that one may see himself no matter which wall he's facing. Red glass beads and black lanterns with red light hang from the ceiling at varying, if not random lengths and intervals. I walk down the hall, my helmet collapsing off of my head while I zip up my jacket, and I make a few turns before I come to a black wood doorway. In front of the doorway behind a podium, an asari with purple skin in a red Chinese dress is sitting on a stool. She looks up at me, dark markings covering her, giving her natural eye liner and brows. She looks at me with big dark purple eyes.

"Good evening." She says, pulling the hem of her dress down a tad to bridge the gap between her dress and her stockings and failing. "Welcome… You're not from around here?"

"Is it obvious?" I ask.

She smiles. "It's a skill… But you seem to have found your way here just fine."

"I follow trails set before me… Paths that lead to what I really desire." I say.

"Come then." She says, uncrossing her legs and giving me a view up her dress as she drops off the stool. She tugs the hem of her dress again, barely bringing the hem down past her butt. She leads me through the door and into a large room. This room is lit a tad better than the hall but still with red light. Smoke floats through the air and there are small rooms built into the walls on either side of me. On either side of the room near the back wall there are dark barely lit hallways.

"Welcome to my home. I am the Madame, I run this establishment." The Madame says. "What are your desires today?"

I produce a credit chit worth a few hundred credits and hold it out to her. "I want to see all my options. All of them. I will spare no expense."

"One moment." She takes the chit with a smile and disappears behind a door at the opposite end of the room. Leaving me alone in the room.

I take a whiff of the air. Sweat… hookah smoke and perfume masks most scents but I can smell the unmistakable smell of sex. I take another whiff of the air, trying to pinpoint the very distinctive scent of Romeo… His cologne. I can smell it. Barely though. He didn't spend long in this room.

The Madame returns followed by several women and even more women flow out of the dark hallways, some naked, some clothed but not enough to protect their decency. The rest clothed in lingerie or some sort of provocative materials.

The girls come in all shapes, species and sizes. A few krogan and batarian females, a few quarians, a lot of asari, a single drell, and a few more humans.

The Madame gestures to all the girls who form a semi-circle around me. "All the girls in the house. Take your choice of one or a few. Or all of them if you're feeling brave."

I look around at them and walk up to the one at the end. I stand close to her. A human. She's looking up at me. I lean in close, placing my hand on her waist and smell her hair. Perfume. Vanilla, lavender… Not the one I'm looking for.

I step back and move on, pulling the next girl close and giving her a whiff… Still not the one I'm looking for. I repeat the process for a few to no success. I pause and step back looking at all the girls. All of them are looking at me except for one. A quarian, with extremely wide hips and a thin waist. Small breasts. Her environmental suit is a thin shiny black material. Skin tight like most quarians suits. No cloth additions however, with a more formfitting helmet with a full glass face instead of a part glass part metal face. Most likely less functional but definitely more appealing. I notice her legs shaking slightly. I walk up to her and she looks up at me, nervously. I can see the shape of her face somewhat through the opaque glass.

I put my hand on her waist and she quivers and I take a whiff of her neck. I smell his cologne and his sweat on her. He used her. I need to speak with her.

I look back at the Madame. "I want this one."

"Well, Mirah, you're quite popular tonight, yes?" The Madame laughs. "She'll take you to her room, sir. We'll settle afterwards. Enjoy."

The quarian girl takes my hand with her small, gloved, three fingered hand and leads me down one of the dark hallways. She leads me to a room at the end of the hall. She opens it and leads me inside and to a large round bed. I sit down on it and my helmet closes around my head as she turns to close the door. She's still shaking.

She turns around and walks towards me but freezes and I stand.

"Not a sound." I say, removing my jacket and placing it on a chair nearby. "You were just with a man, yes? I am looking for him. I'd like your help."

She's quiet for a moment before nodding.

"Sit." I say, getting up from the bed and moving around her as she takes my place on the edge of the bed. "You were with him. Is there anything you can tell me? What did he want?"

"He… He paid Madame up front. He took me in here and had me make my suit transparent like most customers. Then he… looked at me for a long time. He was sitting in the chair… Then he told me to get on the bed and to… pleasure myself." She explains. "I was doing so when I felt something."

"Something?" I ask with a frown. "What did he do to you?"

"No, he didn't touch me. I felt something, like a slight buzz… It was a haze over my eyes and I felt everything get really hot but cold at the same time. It felt good. The pleasure from it was… almost painful. Too much… too long…"

I sit quietly and patiently while she describes numerous vulgarities in explicit detail. All that goes through my mind are vivid images and imaginary scenarios of how I'll kill Romeo. I feel my fingers and eye twitch whenever I get to a particularly bloody part of my imaginary beat down. When the girl, Mirah is finally done speaking, I tilt my head to the side and frown at her.

"You said something earlier." I say. "You said he called for a second girl to come in, but he was very upset when she came in on her own."

"Yes, he was angry that she came in unannounced." Mirah says.

"Like he didn't expect her to come in at that time?" I ask.

She nods.

"Interesting…" I mumble. Perhaps Romeo is subject to a tunnel vision of sorts. If he gets so focused on one thing, perhaps he can't use his powers to their fullest extent… maybe the best time to strike at him will be when he next attends a brothel.

I look up at the girl and wave her to continue.

"We… finished together and he gave us more money and left… and you came in…" She pauses.

"It's fine." I say, getting to my feet. "We're done here."

I draw my revolver and point it at her. She gasps and freezes, hands shooting halfway up. I pause. Why do I pause? She's a liability. She's seen my face. Everyone here has. I need to kill everyone…

"Have you ever killed anyone?" I ask after a second, calmly, readjusting my grip on my revolver.

She looks up at me. "N-No."

I tilt my head to the side and press my revolver against the base of her throat. "Say that again."

"N-N-No." She repeats, a little more firmly.

I frown under my helmet, my grip readjusting again… What? What's going on?

"One… One more time." I say, my voice a little shaken.

"No." She says, after a slight pause, firmly.

I take a small breath out my nose and I press the weapon against her mask. "Don't say a word. To anyone."

I take my jacket, I holster my weapon and step out promptly afterwards. I shut the door and walk down the dark hallway into the main room. Once in the main room I see the Madame near the exit. She turns to look at me.

"Sir, did you…" She pauses when she sees my armor and my helmet and I raise my revolver.

I shoot her three times but none of the rounds have any effect. They hit some kind of invisible force field she's erecting. As each bullet makes contact there's a flash of purple-blue light. She glares at me and charges at me.

I unload but still, no round has any affect. I ready my omni-blade and ground myself, ready to catch her tackle but instead of hitting me she halts and throws both her hands forwards.

I something envelop me, some bizarre force that I can't really describe. I feel myself go weightless and my vision blurs slightly and I slam with incredible force into the far wall. I slide to the ground then feel myself sliding across the ground, as if something has me by my feet.

I slide to a halt right in front of the Madame and she glares down at me and I feel that strange force holding me down. She roars and stomps her foot into the floor and I feel myself get shot up into the air with just enough force to bring me to chest level for her. She swings her elbow through the air and I feel it make contact with my abdomen and I get shot into the floor with impossible force, bouncing off of it.

Just as I make contact with the floor once again. She stomps her foot and shoots me into the ceiling. And I get slammed back into the ground with more force than gravity could produce. I am shot back into the ceiling again. And then back into the floor.

She roars and kicks her heel, and I feel myself get dragged across the floor again but I muster up enough energy through the pain I'm feeling to grab her ankle. Her leg slides across the floor and her head hits the ground with a loud slapping noise.

I feel myself get freed from that strange force and I scramble to my feet and draw my other revolver and walk towards her firing my weapon.

She holds her hands up to protect herself, the barrier flashing brighter with each shot. The last one appears to pierce the barrier and hit her shoulder. She cries out and I silence her by planting my knee on her throat as high as possible. She makes a gurgling, choking sound and I reach down and press my omni-blade against her throat. I slash her throat open and twist my body to push her head down until her cheek touches the floor. I stab my omni-blade into the side of her throat and rip upwards, tearing it open. I reach over and make two cuts over her eyes a before getting to my feet. I retrieve my revolvers and holster them.

What was that? She had some kind of… kinesis. Strange. Was she some kind of meta-asari? Curious…

I sigh. Now I'm going to have to kill everyone in here. I check the time and click my tongue. Mm. I'll have to get this over with quickly. I set a few traps using grenades so nobody escapes. And I get to work.

It's takes longer than I thought, but in about 40 minutes I've killed every single person in the brothel. I also make sure to get access to the offices and disable any and all surveillance equipment as well as wipe all of their data. It's a slight shame I had to kill all those prostitutes but, honestly, it had to be done.

I sigh and leave the brothel, heading to meet Locomotive who's following a lead on someone I need.

**##########################################################**

**A short while later, I watch Locomotive who is standing in a dark alley, waiting quietly. He has an air about him. Like someone who knows that no matter where he is, no matter how foreign that place may be, he'll never fit in. He stands out, and he chooses how he stands out**

He doesn't know I'm here. Watching him. He's got super strength, not super senses. He can't hear me when I don't want him to. He can't see me when I don't want him to. I watch him. He was right on time. Here when I told him to be here. A loyal creature. But an imposing one all the same.

Durran, the reporter I met around the time I met Locomotive appears around a corner. He walks toward Locomotive cautiously.

"Warden's man?" Durran asks.

"Subtly isn't your strong suit." Locomotive says. "You have what we're looking for?"

Durran nods and hands over a small hard drive. "Yes, I have all the data for the man you need. And what do you have for me?"

"Payment as requested." Locomotive says handing over a credit chit. "Though, when the Warden told me about you, I didn't think that the 'help' that you required was financial help."

Durran scowls and starts saying rude things to Locomotive. As he does, I drop down behind him. Locomotive frowns at me but his eyes go wide as I kick the back of Durran's knee and bury my omni-blade in his throat. I rip it across to the other side and yank it out, cutting his eyes before I let him fall over to the ground dead.

"Why did you do that?" Locomotive says angrily. "He didn't do anything!"

I take the credits and take the drive from Locomotive's hand. "He's not necessary anymore. Senna can and is able to back trace the data log from this hard drive. She can mine his servers and take the data he was hiding from me and threatening me with. He was threatening me. That's enough."

"Enough?" Locomotive growls. "Since when is enough, enough? Who are you to determine whether enough is enough?"

"Since 200 years ago when I was born never to die." I say. "You have a problem with how I do my business then stay out of my business."

"Whatever." He growls, turning around and storming off.

"See you back at the Warehouse." I call after him. I head in the opposite direction. My helmet collapses off of my head and I close my jacket as I walk out onto the street, taking a cab back to my apartment.

The cab lands on the mezzanine of my apartment and I head inside to take a shower and change. Just as I finish changing, stowing my armor away in a locked wardrobe, Kim walks into the apartment.

"Jack?" She calls to me.

"Up here." I say from the second floor.

She comes upstairs and sits on the bed.

"Hey." I say, walking over as well. "You're early. How was your day?"

"Fine." She says with a small shrug. "Yours?"

"Productive." I reply. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"Can we just watch a vid here?" Kim asks.

I nod and gesture for her to follow me downstairs to the lounge. I grab a bottle of wine and two glasses and I place them down nearby as we settle down and pick a movie. We choose the lowest rated vid in the selection.

"God… 10 seconds in and it's already terrible." Kim says with a frown.

I nod. "Seriously."

"So funny story." Kim says and I look over at her. "I was with one of my friends today and we were talking about you."

"Me?" I ask.

She nods. "He doesn't think you're real."

"Well… I am." I say with a smirk.

She laughs a bit. "Well, duh. He just doesn't believe me when I say that I'm dating a young, devilishly handsome, statuesque, well-dressed, ripped gentleman who's also rich, has an amazing apartment, a great job, good taste in wine and who's not a douchebag."

"Should put that on my online dating profile." I say. "Positive review. 10/10, would recommend."

"Shut up." She says with a laugh, slapping my chest. "They also think it's weird you haven't kissed me yet and we've been dating for a few weeks."

"Not this again!" I exclaim sarcastically, grinning as well. "I like to take things slow."

"Damn, I'll say." Kim says with a smile, moving closer to me. "We're moving at a snail's pace here."

"You told me you like to take things slowly too!" I say with a grin, placing my hand on her thigh and getting closer as well.

She shrugs and wraps her arm around the back of my head. "But I still like to get to where I'm going."

"Which is?" I ask, knowing the answer already.

"Right... where I need to be." She says quietly into my lips as we finally kiss. Alright that's not what I thought she was going to say.

I take a sharp intake of breath as I pull her into me, kissing her firmly and passionately. I've been waiting a long time for this and it's been worth the wait. I didn't know I had so many nerves in my lips, thank goodness they don't get damaged too often or I'd be in serious pain. We're kissing so firmly that it feels like we're grinding on each other's faces. We're just plain grinding too but we're focused on the kissing aspect for now. Every movement we make sends electricity through my lips and every time that happens it just makes me want to kiss her more. I never want to stop.

And we don't really.

We kiss like this until I notice that the movie has been over, and has likely long ended as the general silence in the room is growing heavy. Silence, other than the noises our mouths are making as we kiss.

Even though I don't want to, I pull back and take a long breath and look down at her. Somehow, I've ended up on top of her with her legs wrapped around my waist. We stare into each other's eyes for a while before I pull her back and she sits in my lap.

I look at the time on my omni-tool. "Holy cow. It's really late."

"It is?" Kim asks, turning to look at the time herself. "Oh my god! Oh man! I'm barely going to get any sleep and I have work in the morning!"

"You can stay here if you like." I say. "Your work is just down the street after all."

"Oh I don't know…" She says nervously. "I have my work clothes but they're dirty."

"I have a washing machine and a dryer." I say. "It'll be done before we even go to bed if we put it in now… listen I know you're, maybe, nervous or wary of me but I think I've proven that I suck at making moves. So even if I wanted to, I wouldn't."

"Are you saying you don't want to?" She asks giving me a look.

"N-No… I didn't say that." I say with a nervous laugh.

"Hmph. Alright, I'll go put my work clothes into wash… Where's the machine?" She asks.

"Through the kitchen. In the room near the stairs." I say.

She gets up and smiles at me. She's blushing, furiously. I watch her walk away.

"You could also put the rest of your clothes in to wash as well." I call after her. She stops, looks back at me and smiles. "Just a suggestion."

"I'll think about it." She walks away and I lean my head back with a sigh. Tonight's a good night.

**##########################################################**

**Hours later in the evening, Detective Chellick and his partner are working long into the night when they get a disturbing call**

Chellick stares long and hard at a picture of one of the officers he sent into the sewer. Dead. His partner too. Both of them. Chellick sent them down there… And now, nobody's even sure if the Warden is alive or dead. The higher ups told everyone that he's dead but Chellick knows that he's alive. He killed those two officers.

Chellick groans and squeezes his eyes shut. He checks the time on his omni-tool and gets to his feet when he sees that it's 30 minutes past the end of his shift.

Jordan looks up at him but returns her eyes to her terminal as he gets up to leave.

"Clocking out." Chellick says quietly.

Jordan grunts in response.

"It's an hour after our shift." Chellick says.

"I'm… going to stay a little while longer, partner." Jordan mumbles, keeping her eyes glued to her terminal screen.

Chellick nods. "Night."

He turns his terminal off and heads towards the door.

"Chellick." Chellick hears Captain Pallin call to him. "There's been a call. Get geared up."

Chellick looks back at Pallin, internally sighing. "A crime scene?"

Pallin nods. "Lower Kithoi. Get going and watch your backs."

Jordan gets to her feet and Chellick waits for her before they leave together. They get in one of the cars in the lot and Chellick drives them to Lower Kithoi, using the address Pallin forwarded to him with his omni-tool.

Chellick touches the car down outside of an apartment building.

The building is shut down and there are a handful of civilians outside, sitting on the curb or on the edges of planters with blankets around their shoulders and stares thousands of miles long.

Chellick stares at them for a while before walking up to the homicide detective standing outside of a plastic partition wall that surrounds the entrance of the apartment building.

The detective looks at them and shakes their hands. "Special detectives. I'm Detective Nurius. Homicide."

"Chellick. This is my partner, Jordan." Chellick says. "What happened?"

"Just before 9 PM there was a lockdown alarm in the building. The alarm automatically notifies C-Sec but we get lockdown alarms all the time. Usually it's an environmental containment error. Like a fire or a contained life support malfunction. When we got here it was full lockdown, shuttered entrance, locked doors. The only way to override is to go in from the roof. Access up there remains unlocked in a lockdown emergency but the lack of atmosphere up there keeps people from going there. It's something only C-Sec can really do, as the two of you know. Though, nowadays, calls like this have slow response times. Thanks to the riots, we're spread thin, and calls like this get put behind violent crimes. But patrol officers touched down a little while after the lockdown call and entered the building and called back up because they were… afraid for their safety inside." Detective Nurius says.

"What do you mean?" Jordan asks with a frown.

"It's hard to describe… easier to show you." Nurius says, handing the two of them plastic overalls and booties.

"What are these for?" Jordan asks.

"So none of the evidence gets messed up by your DNA or boot prints." Nurius says, donning his own plastic suit and booties. He then helps them strap something that looks like a feed bag for a horse around their necks.

"And what's this for?" Chellick asks, frowning at the large plastic bag hanging around his neck.

"For if you throw up." Nurius says, handing them a jar of petroleum jelly. He rubs a generous amount around his nose, even going so far as to put some inside his nostrils. "And you'll need that too."

They look at each other and do as Nurius did, applying it around their noses, filling their nostrils with a heavy chemical scent. They nod at him and he pulls the plastic sheet back and walks through the temporary walls with Chellick and Jordan following.

A guard takes their names down as entering the crime scene before he opens the building's main door for them. The lobby has various officers and CSI personnel wandering about, taking photos of shattered pottery, toppled or destroyed furniture or a lot of blood spatter. There are also several sheets of white plastic lain over a few things in various parts of the room. Though the room's scene is grisly, it's nothing particularly special and there really isn't a visible reason for the booties or the suits. However the three of them walk inside and their noses are instantly assailed by an intense smell, even with the protective guard of the petroleum jelly.

"Ugh… What is that smell?" Jordan asks.

"Fun fact. Blood may not smell like anything when you have a cut and are bleeding a bit but it has a particularly strong odor, especially in large quantities." Nurius explains as he leads them through the lobby towards a dark hallway. "However, to most species, Volus and Krogan blood smells especially vile. Smelling almost putrid. This is due in part to a particularly high methane and sulfur content in their bloodstreams whereas humans and turians have more non smelly metals. Interesting huh? Oh, and entrails. Those smell pretty bad too."

He turns on a flashlight as they walk up to the hallway, the entrance to which is guarded by a plastic screen. Nurius pushes the sheet aside and shines his flashlight down the hall, grimacing. Chellick and Jordan look down the hall and Jordan makes immediate use of the barf bag attached to her suit, Chellick's stomach churning and threatening to lose itself as well. He eventually does. Vomiting into his barf bag.

The hallway is filled with gore. Blood and entrails hang off of the walls and ceiling, and pool on the floor. Thick, congealing blood drips from the ceiling and most of the floor of the hall is covered with blood, gore and entrails of various species. At least a dozen corpses that have yet to be bagged lay in the hallway, gutted, shot, eviscerated but mostly torn apart. The hallway is so coated with gore that it blocks out a majority of the light cast from the light fixtures on the ceiling, hence the need for Nurius's flashlight.

"Spirits…" Chellick mumbles, coving his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's a massacre."

"Every floor is like this." Nurius says. "No one in the building was spared. We believe the killing started on the top floor and moved steadily down. Whoever did this cleared every apartment and killed everything that moved. And overkill wasn't much of a consideration. Those three you saw outside were the only ones to escape. They were lucky enough to get through a window that got shattered by gunfire on the second floor with only some cuts and bruises. Everyone else was slaughtered."

"What did this?" Jordan asks.

Nurius shakes his head. "We don't know. Some were killed with excessive gunfire, but most were ripped limb from limb. Whatever killed them did use blades to an extent in order to assist in parting the flesh of the victims, but for the most part the killer used their bare hands and brute strength to tear their victims apart. Some people think it was a bunch of krogan or something. But krogan don't usually tear things in half only to tear it in half several more times. I thought vorcha, seeing as how they sometimes have a tendency to rip their kills apart like this. But they also have a tendency to eat their victims as well and as far as I can tell, these people were killed so they would die, not to be eaten. Personally, I thought it might have been some excessively powerful biotic that got pretty out of hand with the crushing and rending powers. Or even the ones that make people blow up. But there's no Element Zero runoff, Mass Distortion anomalies or residual dark energy pockets. So no biotics. Shortly before the lockdown, surveillance was shut off."

"Whoever did this… how did they get into any of the apartments during the lockdown?" Jordan asks.

"That's a mystery to us too." Nurius says. "During a lockdown like these all doors are locked until the lockdown is lifted. But they're all open and whoever opened them didn't force their way in. We don't know if the lockdown was tampered with somehow and altered to open all the doors expect the exit or if each door was hacked following the lockdown."

"How many dead?" Chellick asks.

"Accounted for? So far?" Nurius asks. "87. Total tenants numbered around 150 though. They're still counting but we think the number is something close to the total population of the building. And it's hard to tell with all these… pieces everywhere."

"Good God…" Jordan says, getting a little emotional over the death toll.

"There hasn't ever been a massacre that big on the Citadel." Chellick says. "Not even close. This is… something else."

"Craziest thing is that the lockdown was initiated at 8:53 PM and the officers touched down on the roof at 9:21 PM. And when they got there, the building was silent. Whatever killed everyone, cleared every apartment on every floor and did it in less than 28 minutes, give or take, and didn't leave any wounded. All dead." Nurius says.

"That's impossible." Jordan mumbles.

"Not for a few dozen psychopaths." Chellick says.

"That's the thing. There's something else I wanted you to see." Nurius says, walking down the hall. "Come on. Watch where you step. I'd take you in the elevator but it's a little occupied at the moment."

The detectives follow Nurius to the stair well, that is equally gory, and he leads them upstairs to the top floor and to an apartment. The interior is fairly clean in comparison to the hallways or the other apartments they glanced into on the way.

"We believe it started here." Nurius says. "He was the first one dead. And his face doesn't match the tenant database."

Nurius gestures to a dead human, shot in the back of the head with a high caliber weapon, his face half missing.

"This is the most efficient death, honestly." Nurius says. "One shot, clean through the head. We don't know who this is because his face and prints don't match anything we have. An illegal most likely. And his DNA test was inconclusive, but we're using portable equipment and we'll do a better test at the lab later on. There's also a blood trail of a different type than this John Doe's blood type leading out of the room, but once it gets to the hall there's no way of distinguishing because… well you saw it out there."

Chellick kneels down next to the dead human and stares at him for a while… doesn't match the description of the man who appeared at all those other crimes. The one Chellick thinks is connected to the Warden somehow. This human has black hair and he's a lot slighter than the descriptions of the human…

Chellick gets to his feet and looks at Jordan who just shakes her head, looking sick.

"What are those survivors saying?" Chellick asks.

Nurius looks at him. "If you're asking if they saw who did it. Yeah they did."

"And?" Chellick asks.

Nurius kneels next to the dead human and pulls him back slightly turning his head and showing the half of his face that's left. There's a cut over his remaining eye, about an inch above and below the eye. "Who do you think?"

Chellick looks at Jordan again.

Jordan gulps audibly. "I had wondered why they called _us_."

They jump in surprise as Chellick's omni-tool starts going off.

Chellick reads the message. "Another crime scene… Teyseri, at a brothel. Hold on, I want to look around a little more."

"Sure." Nurius says with a shrug. "I'm here if you have questions."

Chellick looks around the room. Sparsely furnished. Like it wasn't being lived in and whoever put furniture did it to avoid suspicion, or maybe it's a new apartment and the realty company put in furniture to spice it up a little. Either way, it's easy to see what's out of place. A single chair in the middle of the room, near the corpse. Upright and with loose rope wrapped around the back. Someone was tied up but cut their bindings. Chellick checks the cut rope. Synthetic rope and the fibers around the cut are melted somewhat. A hot blade. Omni-blade.

"Regarding the bodies." Chellick says loudly to the room. "They're mostly torn apart, but how did they actually die? I assume most of the mutilation occurred post mortem."

"Yes, for the most part they died from stab or cut wounds or from excessive blood loss. Some were killed by heavy gunfire and were further mutilated. We're working on ballistics still. Or, unfortunately, they survived their wounds long enough to die from getting torn apart. We can conclude that the killer or killers used the same weapons for every kill. High caliber fire arms, omni-blades of a particular shape and their hands."

"The blade, what can you tell me about it?" Chellick asks.

Nurius shrugs. "Not much unfortunately. A formal autopsy is needed to be sure but I can tell you that it isn't the default shape of an omni-blade. The shape was customized to closer match a normal knife. So think a handle and a blade coming out the top, rather than a punch dagger or something. The blade was between 12 to 14 inches in length and at least 2 inches in bredth and was probably partially serrated and had teeth at the back of it was well. The blade itself was completely straight but featured a sharp point. Not tanto point but curved, probably drop point. Based on bruising around the entry wounds we can determine that there was a hand guard between the handle and the blade, a small one but it's there. Finally there are numerous wounds that look like puncture wounds with bruises, like someone got punched with brass knuckles with spikes. One of the detectives thinks the blade also had a knuckle duster feature, which is kind of like a set of spiked brass knuckles fixed to the handle of the blade. That sort of design is of human origin, though it's illegal in most places. No rules against omni-blade shapes following that pattern. I had heard a rumor that that basic shape was being adopted by some small parts of the Batarian military. Bout all we know so far. But we can make the assumption, based on all of the stab wounds from all the victims, that the blades used to kill everyone were probably all the same blade or the same type of blade."

"Thanks." Chellick says kneeling next to the corpse, Jordan joining him. "Has CSI gotten to this one?"

Nurius nods. "Yeah, they got everything they need; they just need to bag him. You can touch him and move him. Just put everything you find on his person back where you found it. They need to process that at the morgue."

Chellick nods and turns the body over onto its back.

"Shot clean through the back of the head with a high caliber weapon, high enough to take most of his face off when it exited." Jordan mumbles, thinking out loud. "Do we know if the ballistics from the weapon that killed this man match the ones used on the rest of the victims?"

"Can't be sure. Too many bodies. A lot of people were shot. Though in my professional opinion, I think so." Nurius says with a shrug.

Chellick frowns down at the man. "He looks strange. His clothes, his hair… it's…"

"Retro." Jordan says.

"I was going to say strange again." Chellick says. "Why retro?"

"Well, it's very… urban survivor. His pants are rugged and really well worn, obviously. He's wearing cowboy boots. That's an old style but it still exists so it isn't so weird. But very few people off world wear them. I mean I've never seen anyone wearing them before. He's got combat pads on his knees and elbows. He's a fighter… this armor he's wearing isn't like anything I've seen recently. It's not even armor it's a tactical vest to hold ammo and stuff." Jordan explains.

"What are these?" Chellick asks pushing the end of his jacket aside to reveal numerous firearms.

"Revolvers. Really old revolvers." Jordan says, taking one out of its holster. "These were some of the first guns humans used. Six shot, high power, reliable firearms that relied on the user to prep every shot. It takes skill to use a revolver well and this guy has… 5 of them."

"He also has these." Chellick says pointing out two more semi-auto handguns holstered in shoulder holsters. "He's packing a lot of heat."

Jordan nods. "Weird thing is though that these guns are all very vintage. Literally hundreds of years old. They've seen a lot of use but guns like these shouldn't be usable if they're that old. They've been obsolete for centuries and they stopped making them centuries ago. These guns, in this condition, are worth millions to the right buyer."

"Interesting. And he has 7 of them." Chellick mumbles with a frown.

"Yeah, he has 7 of them." Joran repeats.

"Hm… Time to go to the other crime scene…" Chellick says to Jordan before standing and nodding at Nurius. "Thanks for your help, detective."

Nurius nods. "No problem, Special Detectives."

They return to their vehicle, discarding the plastic suits. They get in the car and start going to the brothel crime scene.

"What do you think happened there?" Jordan asks.

Chellick is quiet for a minute. "A really bad thing happened back there."

"Do you think the Warden killed all of them? Do you think he did it?" Jordan asks.

"It's not his MO." Chellick says glancing at her.

"That isn't a no." Jordan points out.

"It's bullshit… It doesn't fit. The Warden doesn't kill innocent people, and his motives are for support from the citizens. He's trying to turn the Citadel against itself." Chellick shrugs. "If it was him, it'll be really easy to turn the Citadel against him. He'll be a pariah, seen as nothing but a mass murderer. But again, if it was, we have to tell them that. And that'll turn everyone against us as well because the higher ups decided it was a good idea to lie to everyone about him being dead."

"I know…" Jordan mumbles. "It's a win-lose sort of situation."

"Ultimately it's not up to us." Chellick says. "The politics aren't up to us. We find out who did this, whoever they are, and we walk them up to the judge. That's all."

Jordan shrugs. "We'll still be affected by their decision though. Even though we've got to hand in it."

Chellick lands the car in front of the brothel which has a wide cordon around the entrance. Chellick and Jordan step out and another detective walks up to the two of them.

She nods at them. "Detectives."

"What happened?" Chellick asks.

"We got an anonymous call about an hour ago. Said there was blood coming out from under one of the doors. We assume it was from a potential client but they didn't stick around for questioning. It's a massacre inside." The detective says, leading them inside.

"Had my fair share of massacres today." Jordan says, sounding upset.

They navigate a short winding hallway before coming to a doorway with a podium in front of it, off to the side like in a high class restaurant. There is indeed a small amount of blood seeping out from under the doorway.

The asari detective pushes the door open and steps over the pool of blood and holds the door as Chellick and Jordan enter as well. Near to the door a provocatively dressed asari lies dead, her throat sliced open, a pool of blood expanding from her corpse and draining towards the door.

"The madame of the brothel." The detective says. "There's traces of biotic activity in the air, lots of mass distortion anomalies and residual presences in the room. There's no way of knowing for sure if she fought a strong biotic or she herself was simply a very powerful biotic that left all the energy on her own.

The detective leads them down the hall gesturing to each room, each with its door wide open, and each with the corpse of a prostitute inside, some with a client who also lie dead. "All the workers here are dead, even the clients were killed. All of them were killed with a gunshot or stab wound. Relatively quick and merciful, but no headshots or throat wounds. All to the heart. Except for the Krogan worker. Poor thing got shot a bunch of times. Killer must have not known Krogan have more than one heart. Anyway, typical Warden motive and patterns. All have the cuts over their eyes. Ballistics are still confirming but the CSIs say that the wound diameter is congruent with all past Warden kills using his weapons. And the stab pattern is on track with an omni-blade, with a blade pattern that matches the ones the Warden uses on a practically daily basis."

Chellick walks into one of the rooms and kneels next to a human woman. There's a single gunshot wound to her heart and her eyes, stained with blood and running mascara, each have a vertical cut over them. Chellick frowns.

"This is weird." Chellick says. "He doesn't kill innocents… why did he kill them?"

"Sending a message?" Jordan ponders. "They're not exactly the purest of society."

"Prostitution is legal and regulated on the Citadel." The detective comments. "Even if the Warden doesn't consider prostitution ethical or legal, he usually only kills violent criminals like murderers and rapists… right?"

Chellick stands and leaves the room. "It's possible that he was covering his tracks. He's been known to kill people with minor or no criminal record if it's been known they're trying to stop him. Maybe these girls were just working on the wrong night."

"Wait." The asari detective says. "One more room you have to see in particular."

She leads them to a room at the end of the hall and pushes it open. There are two officers sitting together with a quarian girl, who has a blanket draped over her shoulders. Chellick looks at the asari who nods at the quarian.

"Only survivor." She says quietly.

"Give me the room." Chellick says.

The other officers leave, even Jordan once Chellick gives her a look. Chellick finds a chair and brings it to the quarian, putting it down in front of her. Chellick takes a seat and stares at the quarian.

"My name's Chellick. I with Special Investigations." Chellick says to her. "I need your help. I'm looking for the Warden."

The quarian looks at Chellick and that's when Chellick notices two blood swipes over where her eyes would be on her mask. The quarian doesn't say anything.

Chellick frowns. "Why didn't he hurt you?"

The quarian looks at the floor. "I don't know."

"Don't lie." Chellick says.

"He'll come for me." She says. "Have you ever seen him?"

"Did you see him?" Chellick asks. "What did he look like?"

The quarian is quiet for a second, blinks once before speaking. "He's like a ghost. His eyes pass through you and he moves like the air that surrounds him is under his command."

Chellick stands angrily and opens his omni-tool. He uses his access codes to bring up the case file for the Warden. New related topics are added automatically when they're tagged with the Warden. Chellick opens up photographs of the crime scene at the apartment building. He streams the pictures onto the large monitor in the room and grabs the quarian's head.

"You listen to me." Chellick growls. "I'm sick of this. I'm sick and tired of this. All I want is to help people but this man makes it so pointless because no matter what I do, I'm still the bad guy and he's still the good guy. Look at this. He slaughtered 80 people today and that's only the ones we're sure about. There might be some painting the walls of that apartment building and we'll never know. He's not a ghost. He's a man. He's a monster. He's a fucking murderer. None of those people we've tallied so far have criminal records. Do you understand me? He doesn't care anymore. Do you think it's okay? For him to just run around killing people because HE thinks it's the right thing to do? Everyone in this place is dead by his hand and he killed everyone here too and you're still defending him behind some kind of fanatical fascination with him. Bullshit. Now tell me everything."

The quarian blinks again and nods.

**##########################################################**

"**I heard noises outside… once he had left. I just wanted everything to go back to normal. But I heard noises. Shouting, gunshots, sounds like grenades…**

"So I hid. I hid under my bed. I don't know how long I was there, but for what feels like hours all I heard was screaming. So much screaming. And gunshots. And then it was quiet and when it got quiet I knew he was coming for me.

"In the time it took him to come to my room I imagined every scenario of what was about to happen. I imagined him cutting me to bits. I imagined him forcing me to take my suit off and watch get sick and die. I imagined him shooting me and I tried to imagine what that might feel like. I imagined him bursting into the room and killing me violently while I screamed.

"But when he came, he came in quietly and respectfully. He asked me to come out and sat down waiting for me. I knew that he knew where I was so I decided not to be silly about it and have some dignity. I came out from under the bed and sat down and waited and I remember how bad my skin was crawling… He was covered with blood. He was breathing hard. He took his helmet and jacket off and stared for a while.

"Then he talked to me for a little bit. He asked me a lot about my life and I told him. Then he talked for a while about how I shouldn't be afraid to die because the only two guarantees in life are birth and death and who knows what comes after death? Maybe it's not as bad as people think it is. He said it feels hot. He explained why he killed everyone and then he said he wouldn't kill me because he wanted me to pass a message along. Then he cut two of his fingers, rubbed blood on my mask and said:

"'Tell whoever comes to find me that I hope he's what I'm looking for.' And then he left."

The quarian shrugs when she finishes.

"That's all?" Chellick asks.

She nods. "Yeah."

"What did he look like?" Chellick asks. "He took his helmet off. What did he look like?"

"He… I want a lawyer." The quarian says.

Chellick's face turns sour instantly and he sighs, getting to his feet. He leaves the room and grabs an officer.

"Arrest her for obstructing a police investigation. Test the blood on her mask. It's the Warden's." Chellick says angrily. "Jordan let's go."

Jordan hurries after Chellick as he leaves the brothel quickly. "Chellick! Would you stop this shit? Tell me what's going on?"

"This isn't over." Chellick says. "Nobody knows it yet but tonight's going to be the bloodiest night the Citadel has ever seen."

**##########################################################**

…

I'm sitting on a small crate in an apartment. The only light is a few blocks of pale light passing through the only window in the room. I breathe out slowly. My breath is shaky and my face is sticky with sweat. Despite that I don't take my helmet off. I look down at my hand which is also shaking violently. My arms are covered with blood. All of me is covered in blood.

"Shhhhhhhh… Shhhhhhhh… Shhhh!" I hush myself, hitting the side of my head. My thoughts are like screams, they're like cars on a highway, flashing through my brain at 150 miles per hour… "Shhhhhh!"

_Shhhhhhhhhh..._

I shake my head and squeeze my hands against the sides of my head.

_Murderer__._

I groan quietly as it feels like my body is failing.

_What's wrong with you? Stop it._

I look down at this corpse in front of me. At all this blood. It's nobody I know. But I know I killed him. Why? What did he do wrong?

My omni-tool beeps and I look down at it. New video message.

I open it and it's a video someone took as they walked down a dark hallway. The light in the hallway is red and dull. I realize it's because of the blood, splattered across the lights on the ceiling. There are dead bodies everywhere. The bodies are ripped apart; blood and entrails splattered across the walls and the ceiling.

There's muffled screaming in the distance along with gunshots and a bestial growling. Whoever's holding the camera moves down the hallway towards the screaming and the growling. The screaming ceases and turns to moaning which turns to wet, meaty noises. The cameraman laughs quietly.

"Quite a mess…" He says in a familiar voice that I can't identify.

The cameraman walks into the lobby of a building and there's a dark blur that flashes past, slamming a person into a wall. There's a corpse on the ground, cut to ribbons and ripped apart. The dark figure rams the human into the wall before pulling them back and slamming them into the wall again, and again, and again. Then the Dark Figure growls and activates an omni-blade that appears as a knuckle duster blade in reverse grip. The Dark Figure slams the knuckle duster into the person's stomach and slashes across their belly, disemboweling them. He continually stabs into their gut, groin and up into their chest, he slashes at their thigh and rips the blade through the meat in their leg the person screaming in agony all the while. He spins and throws the person onto the ground, handling them like a large rag doll, blood and guts flying through the air.

The Dark Figure smashes his knuckle duster into the person's chest and grabs the ankle of their eviscerated leg. He slams his foot into the person's mutilated thigh and there's a deafening crack as the person's femur snaps in half. The Dark Figure growls and stabs through the leg with his knife, pressing his leg down more firmly onto the person's mutilated limb. He growls louder and ribs the person's leg completely off before dropping down onto the person, activating another omni-blade with his other hand. He beats down on her like a gorilla would, growling and roaring, slashing, pounding and tearing into the person with both blades. He finishes mutilating the carcass beyond all recognition by grasping the head between his legs with both his hands and ripping the head off of the corpse. He takes the head and rips the jaw and mandibles from the skull, leaving them to flop around, held on by little more than eviscerated meat at the neck. He claws his fingers into the eye socket of the head and rips part of the face off, breaking off a small part of the eye socket before hurling the head across the room.

The Dark Figure howls at the ceiling.

"Did she kill anyone?" The cameraman barks at the Dark Figure.

The Dark Figure silences himself instantly and looks back towards the camera.

"I said 'Did she kill anyone?' That person that you just ripped to shreds." The cameraman says. "Did she kill anyone?"

The Dark Figure turns around fully and his armor is instantly recognizable now, from the front. Even covered in blood, the silver chevron on his chest still glistens slightly in the light. The Warden growls, low, like an animal. He charges, moving faster than one could react and there's a struggle.

"Easy now!" The camera barks. "Easy!"

The Warden howls in pain, falling back to the ground, appearing to have a seizure. The cameraman laughs quietly.

"He's baaaaaaaaack… He's out now. Oh he's out of the cage." The cameraman says before turning the camera to show his own face. Romeo. "See you soon."

I turn off the video message and look at my hands again.

Covered in blood… innocent.

I quietly moan in internal agony, clutching my fists tight against my head as I cry. I sob quietly as it feels like my brain is close to exploding.

"Shhh. Shhhhhh. Shhh. Shh…" I hush myself quietly.

_There, there…_

_You're not alone anymore, love. :D_

**Author's Note:**

**I am thrilled and delighted to present to you the beginning to the real intrigue of this story! From this point on, our story will unfold and we will begin to discover more of Jack's past and Jack's fears. We will explore the darkest recesses of his mind and we will see just how dark we can make it. I'm very excited.**

**There's also something I'm going to address. I'm really not sure how long I'm going to write this story. I'm working diligently on this installment. And I worked very hard on a detailed outline for each story and every character I have created. And I am SO excited to write it out for you guys and share it with all of you. I believe I've really captured the essence of my characters. And I hope to bring you the best content I can for a long time. But, times are tough! And time is slim! And if there isn't too much interest in it then I have to put my priorities on things like my education and career. Not playing hard ball here, just stating facts.**

**One last thing. So I've taken time to really identify my flaws as a writer. One thing I know I do, I realized it in this chapter actually, is that I name random characters. Why? I have no idea. I had no plan for this character. They're really a background character. Sometimes, if they have a lot of lines, I feel like they need a name. But then I thought do they really? All named characters should be essential to the story! So instead of ignoring all the characters I've named so far, I'm making them essential to the story! Pay attention! It's about to get really, really good.**

**~Coma**


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